Heptadecagon

In high school, I had a major crush on one person. My crush was so huge, so epic, that it lasted from the moment I first saw this boy to the summer beyond our senior year. Of course, this was a classic tale of unrequited love. He was too popular to even recognize my existence. He probably didn't even know my name. He never, not once, even spoke to me. Clearly, I survived. Intact, with few repercussions. While I held, at one time, onto the hope for something to happen (I mean, why couldn't my life be like a John Hughes film, right?), it didn't take long for my rational self to realize that our lives would never intersect in the way that I envisioned. Every once in a while after high school, though, I'd see him. I always said a polite hello, but I never knew if he had a clue who I was. And that was okay. We'd gone to a small school, and girls like to talk. He probably knew that I was one of so many other girls who had crushes on him. At least he wasn't the typ...