Dear almost Peter Kavinsky,
you told me to start to do it myself, decide on shit myself, be myself, grow up by myself
but I wanted u, dumbass !
I actually wanted u—a broken boy with a story to tell. I wanted to open my heart to you. I wanted our conversations to last and last and last, till I forgot how "his" voice sounded like music to my ears, how his gentle demeanor touched my heart, how his eye smile opened new possibilities, and how he made me fall for him without actually trying too hard.
DID I USE YOU? perhaps, but I got tangled in my own scheme. I fell for my own traps. I am gradually breaking my own heart, trying to heal from something that could never happen.
He wasn't ready for love—you were healing from it. He was a pro at making my heart flutter with his actions—you were an ace at using your words to win my trust. His simple gestures made me feel at ease—your touch brightens my day. He knew my parents and they think he's a genius—you knew my parents and they think you look like me. He already has my heart—you were starting to take it before it concluded.
Tomorrow, I'll probably await for a boy who almost had me—who I almost fell for, if it weren't for his bestfriend.
I know how much you mean to me, how your simple stare could speak volumes, but I think it would be best if "we" never be together.
You are my starry night, but he's my brightest day. You are my daisy, but he's my pink rose. You are my happy pill, but he's an art I'd like to admire.
I hope you're happy now. I'll miss you, Timmy xoxo
Sincerely yours,
Your almost Lara Jean
