Dear Fontiana,
Here's my biggest secret: Ever since that day when we met- you running across the playground, dark hair flying, me sitting on a park bench listening to audiobooks through my headphones- because it was too hard to actually read them- you have been the greatest thing about my life.
And my crush for you only deepened after that. In first grade, when you wore that stupid floral headband, I knew. In fifth grade when you accidentally pushed me down when I was bolting across the blacktop away from you during infinity tag I knew. In ninth grade, I knew it like I knew the sky was blue. I was in love with you. Irrevocably. And for the last time, I knew when you helped me through English because you knew my dyslexia made it too hard. I couldn't help but sneak glances at you through that semester in which we shared many of our classes, or refuse to buy those silly mechanical pencils for the sole reason that I could continue to walk past you on my way to the pencil sharpener and gaze at you lovingly until our teacher gave me a sharp glance, after which I would trudge back to my seat.
Here's the thing Fontiana: I have never had a friend. A real friend. When I was seven I had a pet hamster I loved like a brother, but he died soon after. You however, have always remained a constant in my hectic life. My sole companion. Even though it may have just been a fluke of my overactive emotions, I cannot help but wonder if we were always meant to be.
You may just see me as another black clad emo kid in the back of the class, one who was never able to read properly or succeed in school. You may just act like you see me, you may be seeing right through me. But you and I both know that there has always been a connection. Chemistry. And I'm not stupid either. I look back at you enough to know that sometimes when you think I'm paying attention to the blackboard scribbled with remnants of chalk, you take a moment, let your guard down, and gaze at me, with my almost permanent beanie and headphones. I remember when I tripped playing ultimate frisbee during our last year in middle school, when you picked me up and helped me to the nurse's office like a true Prince Charming. I saw the backward glance over your shoulder. This is in no way one sided.
So, Fontiana. I know this may be too late. I know that you may feel as if our bond has fizzled out. But I am here to reassure you that I will always be here for you. Again and again just like in the ninth grade when your parents filed for their divorce. Because you have always been there for me. You have always been the one.
Yours Always,
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