To the boy I liked. Like.
There's two things I want to tell that sweet little boy. I'm sorry and thankyou. Or probably thankyou first. Thankyou for not making me feel little. Rather any more little than life already did. Thankyou for never bringing it up. In private ot public. For never cracking a joke that could make me seem all those things the world has loved calling me. Perhaps you have good intent, perhaps it's just life unfolding. But thanks nonetheless, because oh if I were to be called desperate one more time, I might have never recovered. And now the tougher part. I'm sorry for another friendship that could have been. I'm sorry that I have been distant. Cold at times. Sometimes even weirdly nasty. Unsure, whether you've nnoticed or even cared to notice. Perhaps you have but never cared for it. Maybe you have. I walked a few steps back because I don't want to like you more. I don't want to spend another minute noticing how you hold your ciggerate or raise your eyebrows ...