Message in a Bottle Forum unread letter...

The first time I met him was on the first day of school. He was a new student, and like every year, I thought that he would just be another classmate I would rarely converse with. But in that first week, he seemed to stand out among the others, and I started to have a small crush on him. I thought that, like every other crush I had, nothing would happen, because it was, after all, only a small crush. But once again I was wrong. There was just something about him.

That first trimester he sat in front of me. I tried to think of something to say to him. Anything, just as long as we could talk and I would get to know him better. But, I didn’t have the guts to say anything, and I spent my class hours sketching the back of his head and writing poems of things I wanted to say.

Then, halfway through the first trimester, he was assigned to sit beside me. My heart was racing. I was too self-conscious. I never felt this way about someone I had a crush on. I was inspired to study, just to show him that I wasn’t just an ordinary girl. I became more serious, more confident, and I surprised myself by the end of the first trimester. I never thought that I would have reached that high up. Last school year my grades were a third lower of what I had this year. I thought that maybe, after all those years of grade school, that was all I could be, all I could achieve. Just by sitting beside me he taught me patience and determination, and as time went past, I was falling in love with him. It was the small things that made me fall for him, those short chats, those questions in class. Those afternoons when he would text me, the times when he comforted me when I was upset. I knew so little about him, but I knew that he was the perfect guy.

I tried my best to talk with him, but my heart would suddenly start to beat faster, and I could feel myself blush. All of a sudden I felt… happy; after a year, truly happy.

Third trimester, he now sits at the back. But even across the room, he has this sort of influence on me. Even across the canteen, I still felt those butterflies in the pit of my stomach that first week of school.

Then retreat came. I told myself that this was the time to tell him that I liked him. I wasn’t able to give my letter on that day, but when I did give it, the day after, he acted so naturally. He didn’t shy away, as I thought would be the way he would react. But he surprised me by smiling and even thanking me. He always knew the right thing to say, the right way to act.

Those were the days of the cotillion practices. Those first few days I was so nervous. I had never been that close to him before, I never held his hand. And that was the first time I experienced a guy guiding me in dancing. In those P.E. dances I was always the one who was pulling the guy this way and that because they didn’t even know the steps. And that one day after cotillion practice. I was supposed to be the one to ask him to the prom. And once again I was so nervous I couldn’t even ask the question. Finally, he was the one who asked. It was a good thing he did because, the way my heart was beating so fast, I wouldn’t have been able to ask him.

Then prom night came. He pulled out my chair for me; he held his arm out for me. We danced twice. I was so nervous, so self conscious. Somehow, like Cinderella, I never wanted the might to end. And when it did, and I watched him leave, I felt kind of sad. But that text he sent after I thanked him made me feel better. He didn’t know it and I didn’t know it, but that was another thing that made my affections for him increase.

Yesterday, I had to commute home. I saw he and his friend go out the gate and I ran after them. His friend kept telling him to accompany me home, and I kept opposing. And again, he did the right thing. He walked me across the street and we said our goodbyes. On the ride home I couldn’t help smiling. 



 I wrote this as a last letter to you. I foolishly and sadly wrote this letter to you. Just assuming that you won’t be in school next year. Just hoping that that’s not the hurtful truth. With just a week left; hardly a week, I tearfully write this letter to you. Not knowing what else can happen in these last few days. And I give this letter on the last day of school, hoping that this won’t be the last time I write to you; truly hoping that this day won’t be the last day I see you. I hope, that if you do change schools next year, you will still have that strong influence on me, even if you’re farther than across the room. I want you to know that when I go up that stage to receive whatever award, I did it for me, my family, and for you. Right now, I don’t know where you are or when you’re reading this. I don’t even know if you had gotten this far in reading this letter.

Somehow, I don’t know how to end this letter, because as I told you before, there are a million things that I want to tell you. And here I am typing only a small fraction of that. No matter how much I want to write it all down in here.

I’m taking a big risk in telling you this. But in only nine months, you have already made me fall so hardly in love with you. I don’t know how you’ll react to this, or if you’ll even talk to me again. Damn, I can’t believe that I’m crying right now, writing this. I don’t even know if I have the guts to give this to you. But if I do, please don’t hate me. Even if friends are all we’re going to be, it’s all right. I respect your decision to concentrate on your studies and I don’t want to be of any distraction. It has been great to know you. I’m lucky to have met you. Thank you. For every little thing you’ve done for me, thank you.







i wrote this letter, and gave it to him. only to find out a year later that he doesn't open and read any letter he receives. he said that if he opens it, it might change things. i guess he's right, and there is a wise perception of his doing. but still....

omg i cried reading your letter <3