A open letter to the person I secretly like:
I realized that today was probably one of the last times I was going to see you. I can now count the number of times I’ll see you before you leave on one. I think about how you’ve crossed my mind every day the last seven months and how you’ll never hear or know about it. I think about my heart and how I’ve labored in fear to push you away and as I ran away from you. I think about how I may have hurt you along the way, or even the reality that you probably never even noticed I felt this way.
I don’t have the courage to say this to your face, so I’ll say it behind you back. I don’t want to know what your response is – I don’t want to know if you’ll laugh or say thank you for the feelings. It couldn’t be truer that time and distance will heal, and in a year or two, perhaps you’ll be a distant memory. But as for now, and as for the last seven months, to you – who will never hear this – I want you to know I liked you.
I liked you. I really liked you. I cannot even begin to understand how it started. Where it began. How it began, in fact, it scares me that I could actually fall for someone, that I actually fell for someone, and that someone was you. It scared me that you appeared in my thoughts that I hoped to see you walking around campus that I went to all the group events hoping to see you there – oh, you would never know, I didn’t even know, or understand, why I liked you. It scared me that there was someone else in my heart other than myself – and I still don’t know how you made your way into my heart – I don’t think I’ll ever understand why but I look back at these last seven months – at this “crush” I had on you – so to speak – I can’t deny the fact I felt something, perhaps love, towards you.
If you told me to run a mile for you in heels I would do it. If you told me to go to New York right now and buy you a chocolate doughnut, I would do it. If you told me to marry you right now – well I wouldn’t, but I would, have confessed to you. If you pushed me to the brink, I would jump off.
And the reality that you’re leaving has settled in. It’s not only that you’re leaving here, but your leaving means I won’t see you anymore. I won’t see your wonderful smile, you gracious laugh, I won’t see you in the corner of the room and make sure not to wander in that corner, I won’t feel self-conscious when I’m less than five feet away from you, I won’t put up my guard when we’re talking in the same group, I won’t spend nights like these, where I should be studying, and instead I’m writing away about you. I won’t feel these feelings toward you anymore.
So while I have them, I’m going to go for it. I’m going to talk behind your back so that you never find out how I felt about you but I’m going to tell everyone else about it anyway. I’m going to talk about how I think you’re so wonderful even know I see all of your flaws and I pick at them anyway but I still, illogically, irrationally, want to be with you.
My heart is this:
You make me jump. When I see you approaching, my heat picks up pace. My mind shuts down, and my body freezes. I coil within myself, and I become mute. I look for a friend, a source of security to run to, the broken record of keepawaykeepawaykeepawaykeepaway running through my mind. When you ask me a question, I feel happy. I love the attention. When you talk to another girl, I tell myself it’s alright, he’s not yours anyway, give him to Jesus. When I realized that I had set up a barrier between you and me, and that there was simply not enough to tear it down, and no words to bind the chasm between us, I was sad.
I don’t know what love is. And I don’t know if I love you. But I do know you make me feel these things – joy, sadness, happiness, fear, exhilaration. And because you make me feel these things, I think that I like you.
With your leaving, it’s going to be easier to put away these feelings. I know. Everyone who’s gone through heartbreak knows that. But for now, I don’t want to, I can’t. I don’t know where to start. And I actually liked liking you, and as the feelings begin to disappear, I’ll begin to forget you, and I don’t want to forget you.
So for now, even though you will never know, I just want you to know that I like you. I never asked for anything from you, and I never will. I’ll always be the girl who purposefully stood far away from you because she was scared to realize her feelings for you. I’ll be the one who felt a heart full of regret when I realized I had pushed you away.
But I’m hoping, that one day, if we ever do cross paths again, I could speak to you confidently, boldly, with joy, expressing how delighted I am to see you again. I hope when we do meet again, that we would meet smiling, and that this time, I wouldn’t run away. I hope where you go the wind blows, and I hope where you go is a dry desert, because love, you are a bright light, drawing people from near and far. I hope the person who haves you in the future cherishes you as she cherishes herself, and I hope you embrace her and protect her like your own life. I wish you well, and for now, goodbye.
Because my feelings are still here, I know I cannot force a lid on this chapter, but the reality of your leaving becomes more apparent day by day. I will think of you often, until the feelings fade, and I will pray for you often, when I hear of you and how you’re doing. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better friend, and I’m sorry for running away from something that never happened. I wish I could have controlled my emotions better – but know this: I tried. I tried, and I don’t think you did. So with that, I hope when you go back to where you came from, that you would have some nice time to reflect on your own life and on your actions and inactions. I know you would never understand this – you would not read between these lines to see that this is about you –but that’s fine, this wasn’t about you anyway, for these feelings since conception have been one-way; they have been mine and mine alone. And with all my heart, I mean it: have a nice life. How I wish for you to be happy, to be full of joy and love of God all your days.