Wishing for Me and You

Dear You, 

I don’t know why it happened. It shouldn’t have. I tried not to let it happen. I didn’t want for us to get this way. Before, when you tried, I told you… no. And why? I’ll never know. 

And it happened. 

I hate you for it. At the same time, I can’t hate you. It’s almost physically impossible for me to despise you, hold a grudge, and get you off my mind. I know I said I hate you, but I don’t mean it. Maybe you can tell by now. 

I think my friends can also tell. That’s the ridiculous part.

I say that I hate you so many times, but I don’t think I realized that I might’ve been suppressing my emotions. That’s always fun to do. I complain about the things that you’ve done to my friends. Too often. Despite my claiming of hating you, you’re my favorite person to ‘hate.’ I think I’ve mentioned you in my conversations more than I’ve actually had conversations with you. You’re my favorite subject to talk about. 

Or you were. I can’t tell. 

I saw this psychological fact saying that the more you talk about your… crush. The more you’re likely to fall for them. That’s a scary fact. For me, it is. 

At this point, you’ve pushed me away. I told you that I wanted us to last. To stay friends. I think you agreed. I can’t remember. You insult me, but I can’t drop the act. I jokingly tell you, “I love you too.” It’s the closest I’ll get to admitting my feelings. You responded with harsh words. I still couldn’t drop the act. I couldn’t show you that my heart cracked a little bit. I haven’t told anyone yet. 

I remember the times before. Do you? I remember when you weren’t such a jerk to me. I wish things were like that again. When we could talk so easily and things wouldn’t be weird. 

It’s hard for me too. It’s hard to show my feelings and to admit to them. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry that I couldn’t admit it earlier when we were in that awkward stage. I’m sorry that I was scared for what would happen if we continued. I’m sorry for pushing you away. I’m sorry for all the pain I could’ve caused. I’m sorry. 

Even though I may act like I dislike you, I promise: I don’t. I can’t. You, on the other hand, can get rid of me easily. It hurts, but I say I’m fine. I just wish you the best. I knew you were going to be great. Too great for me. 

I won’t say this out loud. I can’t admit it to others. Just between me and this paper addressed to you: I love you. I’m in love with you. There’s nothing I could do to stop it. 

Wait. 

Yeah, I’ll finally admit it although it makes me severely uncomfortable. 

Elizabeth, thanks for reading this. I’ll never show anyone else except you. 

Trust is a funny thing to me. I don’t fully trust many of the people in my life. You and Elizabeth are two of the people I trust the most. I don’t know why. 

I’m complicated. 

And problematic, but I don’t talk about that. 

Although I’d love to complain about you and all the things that you do to bother me, I wouldn’t mean it. I couldn’t fully hate you. I’d get annoyed, but the line between annoyed and hate is a fine one. A line I could never cross. 

I know we’re already moving in different directions. I don’t want to, but it’s how life goes. I’m happy with watching you with your better friends and doing all the things you’ve told me. You’re finding your purpose. It’s great to watch you succeed. You know what you’re doing. I think leaving me behind is the best move you could’ve made. 

You’re different, but in a good way. 

I think. 

I’m the artistic one. You’re the athlete. We don’t mix; I get it. I’m fine with staying away. It’s easier than what I wanted. 

Who cares what I want? 

You listened though. I knew I could tell you any of my problems─which was/is big for me─and I’d have faith that you could keep them a secret. 

I still do. In the small, scarce conversations, I trust you. You do dumb things, but I like that about you. I need more dumb and rash decisions in my life. Now that you’re gone, I don’t have that anymore. I don’t mourn the loss. I try to forget about it. 

Trying to forget about the past just makes me remember it more. That’s what I hate about this process. It makes me reflect. Sure, reflection’s good. It leads to character development. Not to me. Reflection’s annoying. I’d rather move on. 

Which is pretty hard to do if I’m still thinking about you a lot. 

I’m sorry for losing touch with you. I’m sorry if you ever regret talking to me. 

Love, From, Best, Yours truly, Take care, Cheers,

Sincerely,

From,

Me, the person who you despise.

~~~

“This is absolutely pathetic,” I muttered to myself as I pushed the letter to the side. I swiped at my face, clearing the skin from the few tear drops that escaped my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to destroy it although it was pretty tempting. 

Ripping it would feel good. Setting it on fire and letting it burn was also a satisfying idea. 

Another part of me thought it was good. It was helping me actually face my feelings. It was something I had to learn how to do. 

Nope. 

It was dumb, absolutely ridiculous and unnecessary. I thought I was good with words, but as I looked over the letter, it was not the best thing in the world. Did I make myself cry as I wrote it? Maybe. Crying over someone was the most cliche move in the world. I thought I was better than that. 

Maybe I was crying because the letter was so terrible. Yeah… that was it. 

At the same time, it was pretty good for one of my first love letters. It was easy to write and I felt like I was able to let the words flow from my brain and onto the page. It was easier to write than an essay. Then again, anything else is easier than writing an essay for me. 

Elizabeth looked at me, a question in her eyes as she finished reading the letter. That kind of look bothered me. I knew showing someone would be either the worst decision I’d make today or the best. I was originally leaning for the worst. 

When she put her arms around me in silent support, I was thinking it was the best thing. I would definitely be adding to my character development. 

No more running away from my feelings. 

“Is that actually true?” she asked in a tentative voice. 

“What if I said yes?” I ventured. 

“Dude!” 

“Shut up.” 

“I can’t believe it!” 

“Please, shut up,” I repeated, but there wasn’t any heat in my voice. I relaxed in her hold and hid my smile on her shoulder. 

She nudged her shoulder, jostling me slightly and causing me to sit up straight, looking at her. There was a small smile on her face. “Are you gonna…?” Elizabeth trailed off, letting me fill in the blanks. Give it to him? Admit your feelings? Not hide what you want anymore? Let people in to know how you feel and what you actually want? Finally trust people? 

“Nope,” was my automatic response. I even popped the ‘p’ as I shook my head vehemently. “Never. Not in a million years.” 

“Dude. C’mon, this is beautiful. A rare moment that I would want to capture on film. It’ll last for years. You remember the saying, a picture says a lot of words, or something like that,” she pressed. “It’s memorable.” 

She was right. It was a rare moment. These kinds of moments were why I tried to avoid them. I huffed and leaned away from her. “You think I’m confident, but I’m not. I can’t give this to him. It’s stupid. Besides, there's a reason why I wrote your name in this. I was never planning on giving it to him in the first place.” 

Elizabeth nodded slowly and thoughtfully as she absorbed my words. “You’re right.” 

“Thank you!” 

“It’s stupid that you won’t tell him.” 

“Oh, c’mon─” I rolled my eyes. This was a piece of knowledge I was extremely willing to ignore. “Ellie, you’re fighting a losing battle. There’s nothing that you can say or do that would convince me to tell him.” 

“I know. Just thought I’d put in my thoughts. It didn’t hurt to say it.” 

I smiled tightly at her as she stood up and walked away, giving me a knowing smirk. I didn’t mind listening to her thoughts. It gave me something to think about and gave me more reasons to regret not saying it later in the future. 

~~~~

Now, I’m getting over him. Slowly and surely. I’m getting better at ignoring him and blocking him out of my head. I feel like I’m moving on. It’s progress. I marvel at the fact that I actually didn’t burn the letter like I told her I would do. It’s good. It gives me something to think about. Now, I’m able to remember my first love who I never told I loved. He still doesn’t know. That’s fine by me. It doesn’t matter at this point. 

I fold the paper gently back the way it was folded when I first found it. Placing it gently in the box of things I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of, I sit back and smile. There’s tears rolling down my face, but I’m not sad. I do regret the past actions I’ve taken, but there’s nothing I can do for it now. Whatever happened had helped shape who I am. Maybe it also helped him. 

He’s out there somewhere, doing who knows what. Hopefully he’s doing what he’s great at. I still wish him the best.