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I was blind when it came to him. I only saw moments where he made me feel special. Moments that made me feel like I meant something to him. Moments made me feel like we had something. A connection of sorts. A connection where we understood how the other was feeling by simply looking at them. Something not ordinary. Something special.

Or maybe it had been his eyes. His simple brown eyes looked at me in a way I assumed someone looked at another when in love. His eyes held love and adoration. His eyes pulled me in and made me never want to leave. Even the glasses he wore couldn't hinder the magnetic pull his eyes held.

He looked at me in a way that made me forget about everything which made me feel less and powerless. He looked at me in a way that made me feel beautiful.

His eyes always seemed to find mine. I would catch him looking at me when I wasn't the one talking. Our eyes found each other every time a joke was made. In moments where we were both gazing at each other, I would be the one to look away first. I was afraid that if he looked into my eyes long enough, he might figure out how I felt.

It never occurred to me that he had love in his eyes for everyone. I never understood that his heart was unlike mine. It was untainted.

I never saw how he made her feel special with his simple brown eyes as he did with me. I forgot that this habit of his was the primary reason that people enjoyed his company. He made everyone feel special. My foolish self couldn't see it.

I wasn't special. He was just nice.

So here it is, the story of my first love and heartbreak.

The story is told through diary entries, and unsent letters and is set in a residential college in Brisbane, Australia.