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 right before you cackle at a joke. Because I will only like you more and you will not like me still.

But darling just know, I'm here. When you can't turn to anyone, turn to me. I'll make you a cup of black coffee. Not very strong like you prefer I guess. I'll crack a joke. Call you names. Be a little mean. But I'll make you laugh my friend. I will let you weep and let you rejoice. And even if I never send you another funny instagram post for the rest of time, know that I still find something that reminds me of you ever so often. I like it and move on. 

Because I learnt only very recently that you continue to breathe even when you're dead inside, so you'd rather breathe in relief than sigh in regret. 

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