Unsent Messages

I think I’m in love with you. I think I have been for a long while now. But I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself, for fear of losing myself, of losing you. You’ve always had everyone’s eyes on you, I wanted to be the strong one, I wanted to be able to look away, unbothered. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to be content on my own. But I couldn’t. I cant. You broke me. And I cant keep pretending like I’m fine not being with you. Like I’m fine seeing you with her, or with her, or with her. For a minute, I thought I finally had you. I knew I didn’t deserve you, but I thought I had you. How stupid was I—I was never even an option. When I saw you gaze at me, you were only looking through me to see her. I lost myself in the fantasy of those few months, pretended it was you really saying those words to me. I scolded myself every time I did it. But I couldn’t help myself, and I fucking hate myself everyday for it. It hurts. It hurts to pretend I’m still the strong woman I was taught to be. The worst part is, I know this time it’s for real. I’m not in love with the thought of being wanted. I’m in love with you. God, to be seen by you. To be known. Honestly, I don’t think you’d ever be ready or willing to see me the way I want you to. But that’s ok. You’re just a boy. I have the feeling that’s all you’ll ever be. And I don’t hate you for it. I envy you, your immaturity, your beautiful naïveté, your blissful ignorance of the power you hold over others. I love you for it. You’re everything I deny myself. So I’ll continue to steal little moments of you, that I’ll cherish forever in the store rooms of my mind, as you see her, or her, or even her, all the while seeing through me. I know you’re just a boy. And I wish I could be a girl. Maybe that would make you see me. But I’m a woman now, I can never be girl again. I don’t think I ever was. Maybe in August, yes, those last few weeks in August when I had hope for us. Maybe I was a girl then, flirting at a brick wall, blasting music with the top down on the way home because I was so in love with that damned wall and I just didn’t care anymore, kicking my shoes off with a smile because what I had thought was meant to be was finally happening. I think I did this to myself. For years, I made myself—not the brassy obnoxious bitch I acted like—invisible. No one would ever see me. So when I wanted, NEEDED you to, you couldn’t. How can I blame you for that? I hope you never see this, because we both have reputations and I don’t want you to look at me any differently than you do now. I just needed to tell you that I think I’m in love with you. I think I always have, and I think I always will be. I just can’t keep acting like I’m not. You don’t have to say a word back. I’d rather you not. But youre the first person in a long time I’ve wanted to see me. See me in the way I see you. I’m so grateful, and so fond, and so proud of you. Thank you for everything. Maybe I’ll tell you this at the end of the year. Hopefully you’ll just be a memory of August by then.

JM