Letters I'll Never Send

1

They say that everyone in your life has a different perspective of you. You might be the hero in one person's story, and the villain in another. Sometimes I wonder what I was to you. When you hear my name, what comes to mind? Do you get anxious or annoyed? Intrigued or disturbed? I wish there was a way to find out. I'm sure I could make my own assumptions as objectively as possible.

You have me blocked on just about every social media platform there is. The thing is, I don't quite understand why. Our very last interaction wasn't pleasant, I'll admit. I called you out on your behavior towards me and others. Granted, I suppose I could have relayed that in a calmer way. But when someone like you has been playing with my emotions for so long, I'd hope you could understand my frustration.

Maybe a bit of a "character summarization" is needed here. You are very popular, especially with the ladies. You are handsome, charismatic, athletic, and cool. You treat everyone with respect, on a superficial level, and have goals for your life.

I am quite the opposite. I am awkward and clumsy. Despite my desires to be more athletic, my long list of health problems prevents me. I never know the right thing to say. I have a history of trauma and struggle with depression, anxiety, and ptsd. I am easily flustered and irritable.

That being said, I still can't quite understand what it was about me that was attractive to you. I was skinnier back then than I am now, but even so. I wasn't very strong and I was emotional. I don't know how to do my hair, makeup, or nails. I don't have enough money to buy nice clothes. Your family was rich - by my standards - but I know you worked to get your own money. I remember you getting annoyed when someone would call you rich, when in fact you weren't; your parents were. Maybe it was the fact that you always dressed up, I rarely ever saw you in casual clothing. You always smelled nicely, and you were, in general, very well groomed. That in itself is extremely attractive to women, but considering we were young adults, it was hard to come by.

I met you through a mutual friend, whom I also miss dearly. I wish I could talk to him, too. At first, I wasn't sure if I even liked you. You seemed stuck up and judgmental. I think I didn't like you at first, because I was jealous of you. I wish I could get along with others as easily as you. I wish people would admire me the way they do for you. I wish I was naturally talented at music. I wish I was athletic and more attractive. I wish I was smart like you, too. And even though you've told me you think I'm smart, I disagree. I always double-check myself on google. "Did I spell this correctly?" " Does this word actually mean what I think it means?"

Maybe you were intrigued by me because I was one of the few ladies you knew who was not obsessed with you. Guys like it when women play hard to get, right? Well, I wasn't playing. I just didn't like you. At first. Once I actually got to know you more, I really enjoyed your company. I enjoyed our long talks about life. I got to understand why you were the way you were. But, there were some things that were strictly off-limits to discuss. You always kept a part of yourself hidden, you were so stubborn. The closer to you I got, the more I understood. But that wasn't enough. I wanted you to open up to me, the way I had for you. I wanted you to be honest and vulnerable.

Maybe we were on two different pages of the same story. Or maybe we were just reading two completely different stories. So, my question remains the same. Who was I to you, L?