Hello, Jan

This is not a love letter! And i'm not in love with you. Specifically, I've never fallen in love and I don't really know how it feels. It is very hard for me to start this letter.

So, since I never dare to say how cool you are, I am writing this letter to you. And because I will probably never dare to give it to you, because as soon as I see you, I start shaking with excitement. Very stupid, but it is. According to Pinky, guys should never notice that girls like them. But rather, they should notice that they like some kind of girls. As you can see, Pinky is a bit crazy. She isn't like me. Her school bag holds space only for makeup, notebook and pen. Books are usually left at school. If any of the books are needed, she carry it home under her armpit. But frankly, she rarely need a book, because she thinks learning is a waste of time. Everything that matters is remembered, and what is not remembered is not important, says Pinky. To teachers, of course, look quite different. As a result, Pinky was left to repeat the course for one year, but she didn't care. Cool attitude, right? I could never be so relaxed. Pinky thinks I'm too exemplary. In her opinion, I should at least have a pink hair color like her. But then everyone would consider me as a mimicking monkey, so I wouldn't do that. Maybe I'll come up with something for myself. Pinky is my best friend, though her advice sometimes is very weird. Why can't we show the guy that I like him? I'd love to tell you that I fell for you. If only I dared.

I can't explain why I didn't notice you then - apparently I was wearing an opaque curtain.

Today is the first day after summer vacation. The sun is shining and I walk across the school yard. Is it funny to you too that teachers are hosting a party presentation this year? It seems to me that this is all due to the award that the principal announced last year - to teachers for their merits to the school. They are now competing for the title of Best Teacher.

I think the class teacher, Mrs. Zauervain, runs the drama group and it seems that she is in the first place now, and now she has thought about setting up a Girl Power circle. It's a kind of self-help group - obviously only girls, as the name implies. Several fifth class girls approach her desk to registrate. In their place, I wouldn't register for either of those circles, for Mrs. Zauervain's sake. She is sometimes quite nervous.

At Mrs. Zauervain's table, Ms. Miuler calls for a cooking club registration. Wondering whether to take registrate? But better not to, because then my family will expect me to cook for them all the time. I'm about to go on, when suddenly a lightning strikes me - a flash! Seriously, that was it! I can't explain it myself, because there are no storm clouds or high voltage wires around, it was just YOU!

Just stopped at Ms. Miuler's table, and that's it. You smile beautifully, and lightning roasts me like a toast. Ms. Miuller makes a soup that can be filled with letter-shaped pasta. But first, those letters need to put together the word or sentence you wish for this school year. Then she give a cup of soup to you to make that wish come true. In fact, I hate pasta soup and I kinde feeling that this advertising for a cooking circle looks miserable. But you are there, and as if you were attracted by an invisible magnet, I suddenly find myself near bowl with pasta. I already know what I want this year and put the word LOVE.