Ashton's Notes

note 17

Dear Mel,

"I'm not in love with you" darling, I already knew that. Before the words even had the chance to spill from your crimson lips I knew that your love for me was nonexistent. I see the way your cheeks flush and your eyes wander when I'm near, but I know the way I can hear velvet blood pumping through my veins, and how my lips quiver when I speak to you is a feeling that belongs only to me.
I am seldom mad, how could I be? For I did not choose to love you, much like you didn't choose to not love me. I can't help that my stomach feels as though a million elephants are storming through, angry and incredibly strong whenever your presence is graced by mine. You can't help the numbness you probably feel. Asking me on a date was purely out of pity, I presume. I would feel terrible if I had to look somebody straight in their cold, wet eyes and tell them that I do not love them. I can't imagine how you felt, and I am deeply sorry for putting you through that. It wasn't easy either, for when I told you how I really felt, though as far as I can remember I never told you the simple yet frightening words "I love you", my words tasted like blood and salty saliva.
I did not plan to say it, I did not spend thirty dollars on a bouquet of red roses that would probably die the following day, but I sure did say something like that. I suppose it's implied that I did exactly what you suspected to be impossible, and I promised myself would never happen, I fell in love in but a month. Love is so stupid. Why can't we choose the ones we love? Because everyone I've ever loved has left or simply not felt the same way. And technically I've only been in love with two people but both situations turned out horribly.
Do you think that it is just the beginning for us? Or will there never be an us? I desperately hope that maybe someday, even if it is thirty years from now, you'll say there's an us, or that there should've been. And it is terribly selfish of me to wish that someday you will feel remorse for breaking my heart. And maybe I hope this date will change your mind, but what could one date change? Not much, I assume. I hope we don't do something cheesy, like dinner and a movie.
We should hang out at my house and maybe kiss a little.

Love,
Ashton

P.S. This is the first time I've addressed one of my notes to somebody and I kind of enjoyed it. Maybe we could talk to each other more often instead of me talking to a dumb old notebook. I'd quite like that.