Dear Dawson

Dear Dawson- 10

May 22.

  Dear Dawson, I notice the little things about you all the time. That could mean one of two things, either I'm a stalker or I care about you.

I'd like to believe it's the latter, but I know it could be either.

I notice how you always use the same pattern when you twiddle your thumbs. That's one of the things you do when you're nervous. You always twiddle your thumbs in the same exact pattern, you first bring your right thumb over your left then you just keep repeating it. It's not exactly anything special.

When you're uncomfortable, you always look at anything but the person you're speaking to. It's one of your many things.

You also play with your hair when you're lost in thought, which only messes it up even more than usual. I love that about you, though, undyingly. It's adorable to me.

I don't think you notice anything about me. Why would you, anyways? I'm just me, pathetic Kindley Rose Walkers, and you're you, amazing Dawson Shane York. 

Yeah, I know your middle name. I really am a stalker I suppose. Wait, I forgot, we were best friends for over four years. I guess it makes sense I would know that then, doesn't it, Dawson? I wonder if you ever noticed little things about me.

Like, how I tap my leg when I'm nervous or how I never directly look anyone in the eyes ever. If you did, you never asked anything about it, but I don't think you did notice anyways. I'm just a small, incoherent whisper among thousand of shouting voices.

In other words, no one hears me. No one sees me. No one cares about me.

I'm just kind of there in the midst of everyone else more important than me.

I feel small, drowned out by the weight of everyone else.

I feel forgotten, like there isn't even a single piece of evidence that I've ever existed at all. Maybe I don't even exist- not to other people, at least.

I feel invisible, completely unnoticeable to every other person. Maybe I feel that way because I know I am. I'm all of those things.

I am small.

I am forgotten.

I am invisible.

And I am, on top of all of that, completely useless to everyone around me. We have enough evidence to prove all of these things.

So, now, those are the words I endlessly chant in my head every day of my life.

Do you believe it, Dawson?

Love,
Kindley.