Broken Dreams ✓

o2 | honey

day 2 ➜ a letter to my crush

Dear Christine,

Time has been unkind to us.

But I want to stop and take a breath before I write this so I won't lose myself again remembering you. And that breath in our story is Secondary school, St Andrew's;

a) it's where I met you.

b) it's where we first kissed.

c) it's where we became dreamers.

So I guess I'll start with how I met you. I believe it was around the autumn term of Year 9 that we met. It was break time and I was sitting cross-legged on the carpet of the library hidden behind a shelf. My back was resting on the books and my eyes were closed and tears were silently rolling down my face. I can't quite pinpoint what was the exact reason for my tears that day— but I know it had something to do with Jaime and his possé.

I had begun to feel someone staring at me. You always asked me how I knew people were watching me when I wasn't actually seeing them do so. I'll tell you. Over my Year 7-8 of St Andrew's I learnt to feel people's stares after months and days and hours and minutes of people laughing and talking about me. By Year 9 my body naturally became uncomfortable at people's stares.

So I opened my eyes to see a girl staring at me from behind one of the shelves, a hand wrapped around the corner as if she were almost about to approach me. That girl was you, Christine.

You must've noticed I was staring directly at you with puffy pink eyes and a wet face. I saw something change in your face and your rose tinted lips made an 'o' shape. You then stepped out completely from the shelf hiding your body and slowly walked to me and you didn't take your eyes off me once, as my eyes reciprocated by following yours.

You stopped in the space next to me and sat down. You didn't say anything you just watched me. By this point, my eyes returned to the floor but I could still feel your eyes watching me.

You could tell I was uncomfortable with your watching me, as I nervously returned my eyes downward and I knew you knew because you didn't say anything.

You didn't ask me "are you okay?" A question you knew you didn't need to ask just by looking at me.

You didn't even ask me my name and I didn't ask yours.

We just sat there in silence, my face drying and the silence of your eyes watching me wasn't making so me uneasy anymore, if I could even describe the feeling, it was as if you shared in my pain. That I wasn't alone and that there was someone there. You, Christine.

You were there on lunchtime that same day and all the other days following. You'd just sit next to me and listen to me cry. Or you'd sit there and wordlessly start reading a book or doing homework. You could've done all that at home, but you did it in school, in the library to sit next to me and comfort me. I began to really, immensely appreciate your presence.