A Letter to the First Boy I've Ever Loved

5 - One of the Important Ones

You remember that night when I wasn't sober and I told you about how I felt? Well, whether you do or you don't, I remember. We both knew how everything turned out different for the both of us that night. How can it be possible, to admit everything - how you were confused and lost but wanted us both, how I was completely sure, and how I was mad at you for forcing me to spit it out - and still end up laughing our asses out and talking about the issue like it was not even there?

I came home late that night, excited to once again speak with you. You were your usual funny self and I was not my usual sober self. You asked me the night before about who was it I liked but I told you I'd never tell you. Of course, you used that opportunity to ask me once more. After countless times of nagging and a promise of you spilling yours too, I finally told you.

I said I liked you but I was certain it would go away soon. I told you I liked you but not too much. I told you I liked you but I was not that serious. Or so I thought.

I was stoked at the split five-second interval. I was certain you'd tell me what I wanted to hear. I was certain we would lead somewhere far. I was certain, absolutely certain, that you would tell me it was I, whom you liked.

But, I was wrong.

You told me you were lost, in the middle of a valley. You said you didn't know. You told me you liked her. You told me she was still the girl. You said you still have not forgotten. You said, and over and over it stung, Margo was still the girl.

I was at a loss for words, because suddenly, all my excitement and assumptions and hopes and wishes were trampled on and scorched and tortured.

Until you, your cruel self, told me otherwise. You said you wanted to talk to me more than you wanted to talk to her. You even said you never wanted to talk to anyone else as much as you wanted to talk to me. You said you liked me and I, being my idiotic self, believed.

"You're different, in a good way."

"I've never experienced this with other girls."

"You're so chill."

You said and I believed you. You told me, and I never forgot.

Does it annoy you now, though? That you learned I'm not as chill as you thought I was, that I was not the girl you thought you wanted, that who I was, was not the girl who can replace her? I hope it does. I hope you hate yourself for telling me those things. I hope you regret ever making me feel something more than just friendship for you. Because I do, feel that way I mean.