To Him

Prelude

So, perhaps a bit of context to everyone who isn't Gabby and Laura.

I just graduated high school. Great, I'm an adult! Well, adult-ish (being 17). Anyways, that's besides the point.

There was this boy. (Oh Lord, here we go again.) He shall remain unnamed throughout these letters to avoid possibilities of identification. Not a big deal, just give him whatever name you want.

As someone who speaks French and English, I would often visit my school's French class and observe the students learn. He, taking French III and IV, was in her third-block class year-round; thus, I was able to see - and talk to - him just about every day. He was a very quiet kid, being pretty reserved when he wasn't around his track friends (with whom he turned into a very social butterfly). However, I would say that he had the best grasp of the French language from all of the other kids in those two classes, always trying to go above and beyond in forming his own ideas.

Every other Monday, they would have class discussions that would tie into various history topics from an advanced-level French history textbook (Trésors du Temps if you want to check it out on Amazon; it's pretty cheap). Being a fellow student that spoke French fluently, I would often sit in on the discussions and talk with the students for a bit, guiding the conversation and offering new ideas.

It was...a bit challenging. See, in these discussions, no one was allowed to speak anything but French for a period of about 15 to 20 minutes; this can be challenging for anybody (even for natives), especially when the topics are about political situations and controversial ideas. It was tough for me to break down really complex ideas into simple phrases that, hopefully, the others could understand and build upon.

He didn't have any problem with that.

In fact, we could sit there, the two of us, tête-à-tête, and have a surprisingly deep conversation. It amazed me that even though he made some mistakes (as we all do), he took them in stride and pushed through in an attempt to communicate his ideas. It was actually really inspiring, and it's something that I'm using in my day-to-day life as I study Dutch and Italian. aNYWAYS.

He's a really big history nerd. He's constantly reading books about the two World Wars, or about the Wild West, or on just about anything he could get his hands on. He was a math nerd, like I am; we could talk about calculus at any time. He was an exceptional track and cross-country runner, and has won several first-place awards for the entire state (and maybe even nationally, though I'm not sure about that one).

I very quickly started developing feelings for him - feelings I'm sure I communicated in my mannerisms talking to him, but were, perhaps, lost on him because he didn't see them as an indicator of romantic interest. I don't blame him; being a guy myself, sometimes (presumably) straight boys don't pick up on those things.

But I never confirmed his sexuality, nor did I ever tell him my feelings. And I'm afraid I'll never get to do so. We're both parting ways, going to different colleges in possibly different states. It's...scary, telling my friends to take charge, to seize the moment, to conquer their fears and live the one life they have, when I don't have the strength to do the same thing.

Perhaps the best advice is one you can give to others but can't follow yourself.

Ergo, I write these letters in an attempt to garner some form of closure about this "unrequited love." I can't get him off of my mind, especially not after what happened in my dreams last night - though that will be divulged in the next part. ;)

Hopefully, some of you reading this can relate to what I'm feeling...maybe you can empathise. If so, I just recommend that you not live in fear like I did, because I never gave myself the opportunity to discover if he and I could have gone somewhere - and I never may.