dear the stereotypical boy best friend that sounds like SUCH a great idea until you fall in love,
yeah, i fell. i fell hard. i fell in love with you when you tried to hook me up with this other boy i thought was my soul mate. the only problem? we became best friends. it wasn’t that kind of instant best friendship where i met you and all of a sudden we clicked, but more of a nurtured friendship that has had its highs and lows. basically i treat you like shit and you still respect me, pay attention to me, treat me well, and say nice things. we say “i love you!” only when there is a petty favor done, like when i brought your slurpee home so that your parents wouldn’t find out that you hung out with me. stupid little things like that. i know that you only say it to me in a “thanks for the favor” kind of way, but when i say it, it means so much more. it hurts, but feels so good trailing past my lips. i love you.
now, we’ve both dated other people. i dated that one kid for eight whole days, OH MY. he was nice to me, obviously really liked me, and pretty much had all the qualities of the perfect boyfriend. but he couldn’t be my perfect boyfriend. every time i looked at him, i thought “he’s not you. he never will be you. he doesn’t act like you, and therefore i cant love him like i love you.” that hurts. i hated doing that to him, but i just wasn’t happy. i couldn’t shake that feeling of not loving him because i just love you so much more. i think that was my longest guilt-caused stomach ache ever; eight whole days. right now, you’re dating that slut. every day, you tell me how you wish she would just break up with you already, but you don’t have the balls to do it yourself. please. pleasepleaseplease would you just realize that she treats you like shit? you complain to me every goddamn day about how you don’t get any “benefits” out of your relationship. then you explain how even if you weren’t with her, you couldn’t get anyone “better.” once again, ouch. i could love you better. we could have that genuine, innocent, sweet, first-time kind of true love. i feel it, but obviously you don’t.
i just hope you realize how fucking cute we are together. we speak almost our own language, as nobody else can understand our inside jokes. we talk to each other CONSTANTLY, like, i have problems falling asleep when you cant text me that night. we go on adventures, which i cant say about any of my other friends, and i trust you with my life. we flirt all the time. we have frisky days (like the last day of school where we legitimately couldn’t keep our hands off each other), and they’re my favorite. secretly, i live for the next time you poke me in the sides or gently swish my ponytail (even though i make a fuss). we are never awkward. we talk about our deepest insecurities, and we are accepting of each other. im only truly myself when i am around you.
you’re more of a boyfriend to me than anyone ive ever known, and i hate that ive let myself fall so hard. every time i look at you, i get that exhilarated feeling, followed shortly thereafter by the sinking feeling in the bottom of my stomach, realizing that you will never, ever be mine.
they say that a simple crush cant last more than 5 months; if it’s more than that, it’s love. baby, it’s been 2 years. i’m pretty sure i love you.
it doesn’t bother me that you will never, ever read this in your entire life, but deep down inside, theres a piece of me that says “hmm. maybe he will come across this website, recognize our story, then see my initials at the bottom.” but i know that’ll never happen. oh well. doesn’t keep me from loving you.
maybe in the next life, my dear.