I had just kissed a boy and it hadn't disgusted me, it hadn't made me nauseous like it should have been. I had just kissed a boy and I liked the feeling of his lips on mine, his sweet taste, which was a mix of sweetened lemon tea and mint toothpaste...
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I was sitting cross legged on my bed, surrounded by all the letters that the mysterious boy had sent me. The day he wrote to me he was a boy, I had spent thirty minutes trying to figure out who this person could be.
On my white and blue duvet I counted thirty letters, all ordered in chronological order, but only twenty-nine of them had been read. The last one was dated back to December 1st and it was now the second of december. He had started with a few letters a week, disappearing for two weeks and then writing to me every day. I had no idea who this guy was, but when he wasn't there I felt as if something was missing in my life.
I checked that the bedroom door was locked, and immediately got back under the duvet. I took the letter, looking at it for a while before reading it. I liked the idea of a handwritten letter just for me, placed inside a white envelope with my name written on it.
Dear Andy,
This is the thirtieth letter I've written to you, and yet I don't think I've ever told you why I started writing these letters to you. I'm not crazy, I simply thought of doing the thing I wanted the most and that scared me the most at the same time. Yes, I was afraid of what could happen if all this could actually become a concrete thing. I put aside everything I felt and now, thirty letters later, here I am.
I don't remember what I wanted to tell you, so I'll answer what you asked me last time. No, Andy, there's no way to have more than this, we're not made for what you want. I like you, Andy, but that doesn't mean you like me. I know what you're thinking, but let me finish first. You like the idea that you have of me. You like the fact that I write to you, you like my letters, maybe even my handwriting and my way of writing. But me, what I am... I know from a fact that I'll never like you. I know and have accepted it, however difficult it is, for a long time. Knowing each other in person would mean abandoning all that little we have created with our words, our letters. What we have now is everything that gives me the strength to wake up every morning, Andy, so please, I'm begging you to continue as we are living now, for a while longer. Sounds like a dream to me, you know? A dream I don't want to wake up from, not yet.
I'm sorry.
But remember that all good things come to an end sooner or later, this too will end and you will come to find out about me.
I don't know when you'll read this letter, but if it's December 1st then know that the weather has predicted snow. I am madly in love with snow. Every time it comes to snow I feel like a child again and for a while I can forget everything. I play in and with the snow like I've never grown up, like I'm not nearly eighteen. But I'm not here to bring nostalgia or anything.
