Dear Sir,
My life as a senior continued. I still continue to look at your college building hoping I'd see you there in white uniform. You were preparing to be a nurse. And guess what, we found each other in Facebook. Or rather I added you, shameless, I know. But the point is we now can chat thru Facebook.
At one point in time, I met another guy. Ironically, our formal meeting happened to be in a rented band studio for band practices. Still another music guy. He heard me sing an alternative song originally sung by a guy, so he was amazed I sang it well. I think that started it all.
He asked for my number, I gave it to him. He was the very first guy to ever pay attention to me. So, maybe I was good enough. Someone could actually like me. I know I don't stand out among many girls, I'm not skinny or anything that would make boys fall at my feet at the sight of me. I'm just plain ordinary, or even less.
So, I didn't know what this guy could have seen in me that he took interest in me. He was the first to text and the last one to do so before I'd go to sleep. He gave me chocolates and a teddy bear. He wrote me a song. He asked me for a dance on a prom night. Yes, we danced and he told me how beautiful I looked that night. It made me blush, it made my heart flutter.
He was caring, he would check out on me. He got jealous of my male friends, your brother particularly because I was hanging out with him one fine day. He would watch me from a distance. He admitted to his friends that he liked me (I knew through my friend who was cousins with one of his friends). He promised me something in the future, one that holds weight.
And quite frankly, I held onto that. I thought to myself that maybe he was the one. Maybe I don't have to hold onto my one sided-love to you or any other guys anymore, because here's this handsome fella who told me he likes me, even subtly said he loves me. I didn't admit it to him or to anyone, even to myself, but I knew I liked him. Somehow, I fell for him. Who wouldn't with all those things I've mentiond above?
But me not doing exactly that -- telling him I like him, might have pushed him away. Because college came, he stopped texting. He stopped with everything. It's like our thing back in high school never happened. It's like we never happened at all.
I was brave, I told you. It broke my heart but never admitted to myself, to him or to anyone. Only now, in this letter to you that I don't think you'll ever read. And I wish we were really friends, that I could tell you this. Of this heartbreak. Maybe you can console me. And tell me he's not worth it. And maybe, I'll believe you. And maybe, I'll feel better.
He may be my first major heartbreak, but you'll always be my first heartbreak...every so now and then...whenever we finish a conversation and I'd conclude that I'd no more than be a friend to you. It breaks my heart into tiny million pieces, over and over again.
Love,
Rosie.
YOU ARE READING
The Belletrist
Literatura FemininaBelletrist: one who writes belle letters. Letters for HIM. #21 in #LONGTIMECRUSH -05/07/22 #453 in CHICKLIT -6/15/17 Formerly: PUTTING INTO WORDS Photo used as cover not mine and credit is due to its owner.