corinna's little sister » david dobrik

nineteen » the love letter

I didn't stay.

It hurt to leave David behind in Todd's room, but I was done doing things for other people. I needed to start doing things for myself.

David wasn't good for me. It wasn't just my opinion, it was a fact. David and I had bickered constantly our entire lives; we weren't ready to be in a loving, supportive relationship. It just wasn't us, no matter how much David and I wanted it to be.

Even if that wasn't a problem, there was David's Liza problem. He had kind of just broken up with her (I say kind of because it had actually been six months), and his fans couldn't understand if they tried. I got it. I understood. Still, I couldn't sit around waiting for David to feel comfortable enough to want to continue whatever our relationship was. I had a life outside of him.

It was actually going okay, I thought. I cried to Zane and Liza, oddly enough, once I got out of that house. Zane wanted to be there for me, and Liza was just coming in when I was leaving. She saw my tears and immediately wanted to help, despite what the subject matter was. Her exact words were, "I can't stand to see you cry over the same person I've cried over." It was too sweet, and we sat in Zane's car outside the house crying for two hours, ducking down to hide whenever David exited.

Zane drove us to Taco Bell, where I ate a quesadilla and three tacos to make myself feel better, and then he took me home. He offered over and over again to say, but the truth was that I just needed to be alone. If I could take a bath and do my nails, I could calm down. There were some things you just had to do on your own.

Luckily, entering the apartment, I noticed Corinna wasn't home yet. I took a two hour bubble bath, draining and refilling the tub whenever it got too cold. It was a waste of water, but I needed it. I needed to process. I needed to think.

It was eleven o'clock at night when I bought the plane ticket to Chicago. Never in a million years did I expect to be flying back home three weeks into summer, but hey, life comes at you fast. Corinna wasn't there to stop me, so I packed all my stuff, printed out my ticket, and headed for the airport.

With one pit stop, of course. I wouldn't be me if I didn't say I wanted to move on then do the complete opposite. I stopped at David's.

I didn't go in, but I left the note on his front porch, hoping he wouldn't find it before I got to the airport.

It went a little something like this.

David Dobrik,

Since we were little, I had a crush on you. I think you knew that, and I think you took advantage of it. From messing with me at Corinna's "study parties" that should've been labelled something else, to "not flirting" with me on the bus when you got moved to the front, to Halloween, you've always known how to get under my skin, in both the good ways and the bad. You knew I was her little sister and you knew it wasn't going to work and you kept at it, for reasons I will never know.

You have done so much to show me you don't care. Since we were little kids and I had a crush on you, you acted like I was worthless, like I was just something to play with, like I meant nothing to you. You made me feel bad things about myself. You made me wish I was someone different. You made me wish I was prettier, wish I was smarter, wish I was more interesting. All I wanted to do was please you, even when I knew it would never happen. Especially when I knew it would never happen.

I desperately wanted you to be proud of me. Even after Halloween, I wanted to keep the secret because I didn't want to hurt you. The crush in the back of my head turned into a love I couldn't ignore and then, in an instant, you broke my fucking heart, David. I couldn't even breathe when I looked at you, and yet I held it all in. I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to be happy without me, even if I was miserable.

I regret that. I regret putting your feelings over mine when I knew how you felt about me. I knew you didn't like me the way I liked you, and yet I let you control my life for years because I saw something in you that no one else did. You made me a different person, and not necessarily in a good way, but I still wanted you to prosper. (What the fuck was wrong with me?)

When you got on the first plane to LA, you couldn't understand the relief that came over me if you tried. When Corinna came in my room crying because you were gone, I had to hold back my smile. You had hurt me, and even if I loved you deep down, it made me so happy to know I could finally breathe again. I got to breathe for the first time in seven months. I wasn't worried about pleasing you; I was worried about myself. You couldn't cloud my judgment anymore. There's nothing else I would've ever wished for.

I came to LA knowing fully well that I would be around you all the time, and I didn't want to be. I had lived three and a half years okay. I wasn't harboring anger. I wasn't plotting against you. I was myself. I made friends, who admittedly talked about you and Corinna and your friends a little too much. I got a job. I got a life. I wasn't constantly hung up on whether or not I would pass you in the hallways; I wasn't worried about if my face looked ugly while driving past you in the parking lot. My grades got higher and my life got better. I didn't want to ruin that by moving to Los Angeles for a few months, but you of all people should know how convincing Corinna is. You taught that bitch all she knows.

Seeing you for the first time brought back so many emotions I had been hiding for so long. The first and most prevalent was anger. God, I fucking wanted to punch that cocky smile off your face. But the next, surprisingly, (or unsurprisingly, depending on how you look at it), was love. I was happy to hear your annoying, squeaky voice teasing me again. I would've never admitted it three weeks ago, but I was.

I felt like such a dumbass once the giddiness took over. You had constantly shown me you didn't give a shit about me, and I had constantly come crawling back. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I didn't know why I couldn't just be normal and like a boy who was sweet to me. I didn't know why I had to love you.

Now I do. I know everything about you, just like you know everything about me. I know you used to order white pizza at your "study parties" because you felt bad that I was forced to come and you knew I didn't like tomatoes. I know you got so scared after watching The Conjuring that you slept in my sister's bed. You were sixteen. I know when your vines got popular that you weren't as confident in them as you seemed; you didn't want to be made fun of. Any time anyone brought them up, you got defensive. I know you cried the day after you lost your virginity because you were scared you got her pregnant, even though you used a condom. I know you ate only cheetos for a week straight when your friends went out of town for spring break. I know you hated your middle name, and hid it at all costs. I know you were happy and talkative and a good kid in general. I know how big your dick is. (Kidding!) ((But not really.))

What I mean by this letter is that by hating you all these years, I've only grown a stronger connection with you. I've learned everything about you, even the bad things. I know you better than I know yourself, because if I didn't, I could've never bickered with you as much as I did. I would've had no material.

So here it is: I love you, David Dobrik. As much as it annoys me to say it, even after the fighting and the name calling and the broken hearts, I love you. As much as I've cried and cried and cried over you, I love you. I love you so much it hurts, and I don't think that's healthy. So I'm leaving.

By the time you read this, I'll be in Vernon Hills. I'll be free and happy and you will have a new chance at a new life where you aren't rushed into things. I hope and pray that you will be happy. That's been my goal since the second grade, when we met. You will be the first choice in your life, and I will be the first choice in mine.

We will get through this together, but separately. We've done it once before (unknowingly, but still). I have faith in us. We will make it through the other side. We always do.

So here's your love letter (the one you said you wanted someone to write you at the seventh grade formal afterparty. Yes, I was there). It isn't a love letter in that I'm staying and fighting for you; it's that I'm letting you go. It's that we're finally free. It's that we're us again. It's that we will finally be able to function. We need this. You're welcome in advance.

Best of luck to you, David. I love you!

Love, Matilda Kopf

well damn. lmao