Dear you,A Story by Cameron Troyer
Do you remember how we first met? Grade six, when I first moved here from there. You were younger than you are now. So was I. So was everyone we knew. Our friends, our enemies, our frenemies. Teachers, siblings, parents, all were younger too.
When I first saw you, I ignored you for the more attractive girls, and you ignored me for the more attractive boys. Let's be honest, though. It was grade six. What did we know about love? Then, by grade nine, you had grown into your looks. You had let your hair grow out into beautiful hazel locks instead of that brown bob it had been. Your complexion had cleared. And I noticed you. You were no longer a young child who watched Inuyasha (which reminds me, what the hell is that s**t?). Now, you were a beautiful teenager, and I realized what I had been missing. So I asked you out. Now, if this were a love story, you would have said yes, and we'd still be together now, blah blah blah, kisses and hugs and spooning. But no! This is not a love story. This is not how we met. Nor is this how I lost my virginity. This, while it is the story of us, is not a love story. It is a story about the love I hold for you. So, you rejected me. You, and about 15 some odd other girls. Now, don't let those numbers deter you. I still loved you then. I just ignored it, due to the rejection I felt. I tried other times to ask you and other girls out, all the while still in love with you. You know that Grade 11 put me in two relationships... with the same girl. Yes, she's a bit of a w***e. Everyone makes mistakes. While I had her in my arms, though, I still thought of you. And here we are, one year after that. Another failed attempt to have you go out with me while in Cegep. I'm apparently still way too geeky. You are still way too good for. and I am still way too in love with you. It's summer, so I won't see all that much of you until next semester. And this is how I hope the rest of my life will work out. By the end of August, I'll have built up some muscle, enough to be somewhat hot, maybe even hunky. My complexion will also clear. And maybe I'll finally find a haircut that suits me. And you'll fall in love with me the same way I fell in love with you. Around mid-November, I'll finally build up the courage to ask you out again, and you'll say yes this time. We'll date, then be boyfriend and girlfriend. By then, I'll be 18 (finally!), so we'll go to bars, where I'll punch out some fat drunk who thought he could get away with hitting on you. In June, I'll graduate from Cegep, but you won't. You're still in there for a year and a half for Nursing. So, you'll tearfully break up with me, saying it's for the best, as I head off to University. Sure, I'll screw around, but I won't stop thinking of you. Years later, when I'm 25 (you'll be 26), I'll end up in the hospital. You'll be the attending nurse, and we'll reconnect. I'll ask you out again, and you'll say yes again. We'll date for 2 years, and then I'll ask you to marry me. I'll be kneeling in the closet where I long ago wrote that I love you in black marker, below a pair of yellow flip flops. You'll say yes. The rest is another story. The story of how I hope to spend the rest of my life with you, right up until you're crying beside my death bed at the age of 80 or so. What I just described, however, is all fantasy. Me get hunky in 3 months? Please, I don't think steroids could do that much. So let's just say it's not going to happen. My fantasy, however, is not the point of this. The point is that I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you Love, me
© 2011 Cameron TroyerAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on May 25, 2011 Last Updated on May 25, 2011 AuthorCameron TroyerMontreal, QC, CanadaAboutI'm only a teenager. 17, to be exact. and male. I live in Canada, but I'm not going to tell you which city, or province for that matter. I don't want to be stalked, thank you very much. I like to wri.. more..Writing
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