hi. I, uh, hope you never read this. I hope that maybe someday I’ll tell you, in person. you don’t deserve just a letter. but I don’t want this to hurt.
you like me. I once thought I liked you. I dunno, maybe I still do. but sometimes I look at you and all I see is pain. sometimes I get all fluttery like I used to, but… nit as much as I’d like.
I like you best when it’s just the two of us. you’re so different around your friends.
or maybe you’re just different around me.
I know you. a lot better than you know me. I notice things. I observe. you probably have no idea how well I know you.
but it hurts.
you think you like me. you’ve never spent enough time with me. I’m scared you’ll start to see me as me, the person who you’ve been blind to. I’ve always acted like me when I’m around you, but you just don’t observe like I do.
I’m the textbook definition of asexual. but you’re a teenage boy. and like I said, I know you. I’m scared to tell you, and I know that someday I might.
I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with me. I don’t want you to be stuck with me. I wish you’d just get up and leave me. the pain of that might be easier to deal with than you staying with me.
you don’t notice things like I do. it’s a wonder that you haven’t picked up on how I act around you lately. I don’t control it. I shy away from you if you stand near me, I avoid talking to you if I have to. how someone doesn’t notice, I don’t know.
maybe you just don’t care.
man, that would be a relief. but… why does the idea of that still hurt? why is it that when I think of my future, I feel sad whether you’re in it or not?
I’m so glad you came into my life. but sometimes I wish you never did.