Dear Josh,

tear in my heart

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Sunday, September 28

Dear Josh,

Yesterday my doctor told me I am infatuated with you. I'm not sure how true that is, but he says that he doesn't think the letters I'm writing are helping. Regardless, I'm going to continue writing them because I think it helps me get the feelings out. You know, so I don't act on them suddenly or something like that.

Anyway, today you came to my house to work on the chemistry project. It was going really well; I was playing music that we amazingly both liked. I realized that your face could be a music taste on its own. I looked at you, in the midst of my favorite song, and I saw new music in you. I saw your hair and a guitar was strummed, I saw your lips and a drum beat began. Your eyes were leading with a voice more powerful than your own. 

The poster was moving along nicely. We had finished our research as well as the actual experiment, and were focusing on making the poster look pretty. Naturally, I did most of the work in that department. I didn't mind though, because when you did try to help, your hand would brush mine due to the limited space left on the poster. There were certainly butterflies. I felt them at least. It seems that you did too because it happened so many times that there is almost no way it was accidental. 

Then something important happened. Actually, a few important things occurred all at once. I mustered up my courage in the midst of a calm silence and wrote, "Josh, can I ask you something?" I was sweating as I poked your shoulder and pointed to the notebook.

You nodded. "Sure, Tyler."

I took a deep breath as I began to write, slowly this time. "What's your sexuality?" I chose this over "Are you gay?" because the statement I chose is more neutral. Hopefully this way I didn't reveal how I feel about you.

You smiled. "I'm straight, why?" You flashed your beautifully white teeth in a grin that seemed slightly uncomfortable. I could tell you weren't expecting that question. I'm fallingfallingfalling and I don't know what to do. I definitely didn't think this would happen. I mean, it was always a possibility, but in my fantasy world I thought you would like boys in some form. I let my dreams seep into reality and now my world is bleeding with my own personal lies, and I'm shocked. All I can think about is how wrong I was. You'll never love me like I love you - or be as infatuated with me as I am with you, according to my doctor. He says it's not love but I felt it in my chest when I was subliminally rejected and it hurt so much. You've caused a tear in my chest; youmight as well be the tear I'm feeling in my heart.

I swallowed what feels like a rock as I wrote, "Just wondering..."

"Well what's yours?" You asked me innocently, not looking to hurt my feelings.

I smiled to hide my heartbreak, scrawling, "I'm hella gay." 

You gave a twinkling-star laugh. "That's cool." There's a pause, and we both looked at the project awkwardly. I didn't know what to say. You breathed out loudly. "Where's your bathroom?" I pointed out where it is and watched in silence as your hurriedly walked out of the room. I put my face in my hands, but didn't let any tears fall. I was stupid for thinking you'd even like me, stupidstupidstupid. You were only here for the project, nothing else. You didn't touch me purposefully all those times. It's my fault for being insane.

A couple minutes passed, and I was starting to get worried. It was stupid, but I genuinely thought you were in danger or hurt. Paranoid, I know. I stood, and walked to the doorway of my small bedroom. I couldn't speak (obviously), so I stood in silence after turning down the music.

"... careful around him, he doesn't know what..." A woman's voice, distorted through walls or vents or both. I discover that it belongs to my mother very quickly. When you don't speak, you learn insanely fast what the people closest to you sound like. You listen.

"... I understand, but I think he is..." Josh. I recognized you immediately. Your gravelly voice that you somehow make into a gentle hug.

"You should... get back up there... Thank you, Josh."

I heard your steps on the way back up the stairs, and I rushed back to the poster, my breathing picking up rapidly. You walked in slowly, mumbling, "I'm back." I nodded, facing away from you. My breathing didn't stop getting faster, and I couldn't breathe at all by this point. You rushed over to me. "Oh my God, Tyler are you okay?" I shook my head, scratching at my face helplessly. When I looked back in my mirror a few minutes ago, I saw blunt scratch marks. They'll fade by tomorrow, but for now I'm terrified. I don't even remember doing it, but I know it happened.

I was having a panic attack, and you didn't know what to do. So you spoke to me softly, getting more and more frantic as my breaths became more shallow. I assume that I passed out, because the next thing I knew I was being cradled in your arms. As I woke, your grip loosened significantly. I think that my mother told you that I was prone to extreme crushes, so you are trying to act as straight as possible around me now. I think that's complete bullshit.

I refuse to believe that things won't turn out okay. I know you have some type of feelings for me, whether you know it or not. I do. The look in your eyes on the first day, the way you could be popular but you're not, the fact that you didn't treat me like the other stronger boys do. You have some feelings for me, I just hope that you realize it soon.

A new victim of yours,

Tyler

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