Seven Letters After You

Letter #3

     I tried going for a jog, but my legs gave out before I reached the front door. I didn't have the courage to pick up the running shoes you had bought me. My heart aches for just another touch... but you're gone. And this time, you're not coming back.

     Day Three

     Time passed by quickly when I was with you. Soon enough, we were in high school.

     Remember freshman year?

     We were at the bottom of the food chain. I didn't get picked on by the seniors, because I was pretty much invisible, but you did. Remember how the seniors chased you with a baseball bat on the first day of school? You sprinted home and locked your front door. They cut you some slack because they wanted you on the football team because you were fast.

     We adjusted in quite well for high school. We chose most of the same classes, so we accompanied each other through school. We met so many new people, and started conversing with a new group of acquaintances. One in particular stuck out.

     Becky.

     She was what many would consider the 'American beauty queen'. She was blonde, with light skin, and had bright blue eyes which seemed to reflect the sky. And she was completely infatuated with you. She hung out with us younger people just to get to you. Remember the first time she introduced herself? She grabbed your hand the way you grabbed mine the first time we met. You were startled the way I was when you first tapped my shoulder. I didn't want you falling for her the way I fell for you.

     She showed far more skin than I ever did, and was so comfortable with touching you all the time; it made me angry. I didn't like her. Her laughs were faker than her eyelashes. She started trying to exclude me from group conversations. You liked her, I could tell. She was friendly the way you were. I was shy.

     She was far better than I was as an individual. She was the dream girl most guys wanted. The stereotypical cheer squad member: big breasts, wide hips, fashionable clothes, and perfect makeup. I was nothing compared to her. I was too skinny for my height, my chest was almost completely flat, and my butt was nowhere near as big as hers.

     And this was when I discovered how it felt to feel completely insecure.

     After our long walks home, I would stand in front of the mirror; sometimes clothed, sometimes nude. I would observe myself from different angles. I noticed how I had terrible tan lines from different sports, how my bones would stick out too much in many locations, how my breasts were too small, how my arms were flabby, back was slightly hunched, bags as dark as raisins hung below my eyes, ears stuck out too much, face was non symmetrical, nose bridge was too flat, nose was filled with open pores, eyebrows were undone, lips were not large and juicy enough, and how my type of beauty was either 'undefined' or non-existent at all.

     I would then move on and worry about my personality. I was too shy, too afraid, too conservative, too hidden, too insecure, too sad, too weak, too dependent, too clingy, too needy, too sensitive, too jealous, too fragile, and too broken for you.

     Though your father had a wife, he was still alive, and your mother loved you and cared for you when your father wasn't around. My father merely existed after my mother's death.

     Then the day I dreaded came along. She invited you over to her house, in front of me. I had my fingers crossed behind my back and my toes crossed that you would say no, but you said yes. Let me tell you, my heart shattered into pieces. She was far braver than I was. I knew she was going to make a move.

     You canceled our Friday afternoon hangout to hang out with her.

     I felt utterly betrayed. I dreaded it for the whole week, hoping it was a huge joke, but it wasn't. When the Friday afternoon came, I skipped sports practice. I couldn't bear practicing knowing you were with another girl. I walked home alone and thought of how much of a failure I had become. I had become so dependent on you; I didn't know how to enjoy life without you. You were my only source of joy.