Mind, have mercy.

Letters to Let Go

Thursday, May 16, 5:30 p.m.

After the imprecise declaration of my last entry and the topics of my previous two, I feel rather odd digressing from the train of thought that plagued me those first weeks. Recently, however, I have been bothered by another topic. What I shall write here is a different form of recollection. Almost everyone goes through the pains of longing and rejection, so I know I am not unique in this, but I thought writing out what I feel may help me let go of whatever about these memories troubles me.

Dear Bratumil,

The name I give you means "brotherly love". When I first realized I liked you, I didn't know how to interpret what I felt. For a while, I thought I had romantic affections, but that wasn't it at all. We had classes together in elementary school. You were adorable. You had brown hair and pale skin, with freckles, perhaps? I remember your personality much better than your appearance. From teasing you I derived quality entertainment. At that time, you loved the Hulk. I remember you pretending to rip your shirt off in a fit of rage a few times, or something like that. I found your behavior endearing. You were also smart. We attended the same after school program together, which was exclusive to students selected based on their grades, and you had most, if not all, of the states memorized. My affection for you bloomed slowly, but at some point I realized when I looked at you, I felt warm and soft. How do you describe love? I wanted to take care of you. Back then, you were weaker than me as well – another thing that appealed to me, because I wanted to be strong, and to be so, one first needs those who are weaker than them. One indoor recess I discovered I could pin you to the floor with little effort. In retrospect, that was rather cruel of me, as your friends made fun of you for being held down by a girl. There were other times I went too far in my mischief. I regret hurting your head on the classroom floor when I pulled your sweatshirt out from under you. My desire was to cause vexation, never physical pain.

Once we graduated elementary school, we were not near each other again until high school, and if we were, I did not notice. My fondness for you withered, but now that I reflect on it, you were one of the few people for who I did not perceive my love for as an illness I needed to recover from. Those days I cared for you in elementary school were not painful for me. Thank you. I hope I was not too bothersome, and that you are working toward something you can be proud of.

Dear Huxley,

I cared for you in the last two years of middle school. The sources I've looked at cannot agree on what the name Huxley means, but I give it to you with the interpretation of "inhospitable place". You were the first who led me to view a crush as something to be recovered from, though that was more my fault than yours. 

Huxley, I owe you an apology. I admitted my feelings to a friendly acquaintance who promised not to tell anyone, and naturally it felt like the whole school soon knew. At least, I knew you knew, and our friends knew, and that was enough. Prior to their discovery, school was a haven for me. As long as I was in the classroom, I did not have to deal with pressures from my parents. After my secret got out, home became "home" again, simply because it was the lesser of two evils. I will never know how the situation made you feel, but I hope it was not as bad for you. Had I been then the person I am now, I like to think I would have confronted you. I wish I had admitted my feelings and left you with the assurance they would eventually leave, but I had neither the courage nor the experience that I currently possess. For that, I am sorry. 

However, I should apologize to myself as well. I absolutely hated you in elementary school and in sixth grade. Somehow, that changed, and I don't know why. You were humorous, handsome, and outgoing, but you also had a propensity for making stupid decisions. Blinded as I was, I could not realize a relationship with you would not bring me the comfort or satisfaction I desired. When I finally recovered from my crush, I felt happier and lighter than I could remember feeling for quite a while. Thank you, Huxley, for not reciprocating what I felt for you. A relationship between us never would have been healthy.