Gawd, I am such a dork. Just one word, one look, and I am his. With a smile, I swoon; a touch, I fall. A single sentence from him brightens my day and lightens my heart. I am pathetic, to fall so easily once again for someone who will never give me anything more than the time of day. I am a fool--a hopeless romantic fool. I sound like a half-hashed heroine from a tween's romance novel. I envy him--his easy confidence, his careless smile, his talented movements. He is completely without my awkward tumbles and lackluster performances and half-doubting acts. In that way, I suppose it's true that opposites attract, if only in one way. My every thought is occupied with whether or not my next act will come off too strong or not strong enough. I want him to notice me out of something other than pity that has been garnered through my lack of grace or exhibitionism. I often proclaim that I am the greatest loser, the biggest nerd. For him, it is true. I am the most monumental dork, if only for him.