• “I’ve got a big, fourth-grade crush on you.”

    by  • August 6, 2011 • Sorry • 0 Comments

    Dear You,

    Here’s the thing. I have a big fourth-grade, let’s-share-crayons-and-markers-when-we-color-in-our-coloring-books crush on you. It’s true. I don’t know how else to say it, I don’t know how to cope with it, I’m scared to do anything about it. I don’t know what it means. I’m scared to find out. I don’t understand why, or how, or what, or when, or any of that craziness, but somewhere between having my heart “broken” (as broken as your high school heart can get) freshman year and finding myself again I met you. Well, not really, we had already known each other existed, but I met you again. And you fell for me. Hard. I knew this, oh God, I knew it probably before you did. And we continued on, nerdy jokes mixed with flirty banter and endless suffering in freshman English class. We were friends. You had this goony smile that just melted my heart. You had no idea. I tried so hard to talk myself out of liking you. So so so hard. And I’ve been doing so ever since.

    We’ve graduated now, and things have only gotten more complicated. Not long after freshman year was over, I hadn’t seen you or heard from you in months, (I found out later you were pretty sick) and I had met and started dating another boy who I’m still with today. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy with this boy, but I’ll always regret that I did that to you. I left you hanging with no real closure. It was unfair, it was wrong. I just assumed nothing would ever happen between us, because that was how it had been for so long. And that’s how it continued to be. All through high school, I’d be reminded of you by the most random things. You were always this unknown possibility that I never did anything about, this vast unknown that I never explored. And I was comfortable with that. I didn’t want to mess up my relationship, I didn’t know what it would mean; I would always have an excuse. We went to a few school dances together (my boyfriend had graduated before me and was comfortable with me going with other friends), and that always made me nervous because I didn’t want to dig up old feelings. And of course, much to my frustration, it always did. I’ll probably always have feelings for you, even if I leave them dormant and unprovoked for a very long time. You’ll probably always have feelings for me too. Everyone always says we’d be perfect for each other. Whether or not they’re right I will never really know, but I do know that we’ll likely never be able to find out. I think in some alternate universe we’d work out together, but I don’t really believe in that, so we’ll never know.

    Remember how I said that the point of this letter wasn’t to confess my feelings for you or tell our weird story? Really, this letter is to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry we never worked out. I’m sorry that part of that is my fault. I’m sorry we’re never going to be together. I’m sorry I could never give you a chance. I’m sorry that all of your friends feel the need to pick on you because of me, or make comments about the two of us. I’m sorry I had to tell you “not now” when you sent me that text a few weeks ago when you texted me telling me how you feel. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you much of an explanation. I’m sorry things are awkward now. I’m sorry I can never really tell you the truth. I’m sorry we may not see each other again.

    I want you to know how important you are to me. You are absolutely one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, and one of the sweetest people I know. You deserve the best. I wish you the best of luck in everything you do, I wish you love and happiness, I wish that you find someone who will play frisbee with you, eat Taco Bell with you, and get your jokes as well as -but hopefully better- than I do, someone that will sing along loudly to “Save Me San Francisco” in the car with you and not care if they ruin it. And, above all things, I wish you never ever ever give up your glasses.

    P.S. I owe you a shitload of animal crackers. Thanks again for those.

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