A Letter to the Object of my Affections

 

I told you that I’m as sick of hurting people as I am of being hurt. The problem in this is that I am willing to risk that if you let me. (I know that it is not my place to risk your well-being. Sorry.) I don’t know who’s more scared here; it’s impossible to tell. How does one measure fear? In how many times Subject A trips over her own words, or maybe in the number of times Subject B looks at the floor/table/whatever to avoid eye contact with Subject A? The butterflies inside me push toward the subjective opinion that I am more scared, but I know it to be a lie. If there is anything we are equally matched in, it is this.
                I’d hate to admit that I am not what you need, but there is a big chance it is the truth, even if it doesn’t seem like it now. I cannot accurately explain the uniqueness of this feeling, though, the hope within me of THIS being good. Worth something, even. Usually, there is some kind of fall, some pivotal moment where the manifestation of feelings just explodes so extremely that it pushes me over my edge and into la-la land. There is no fall. There is no edge. We are on the same plain, here. Level.
                I noticed you a long time ago, long before you saw anything in me, I’m sure. And I remember it, which is the odd part. I remember seeing you several times. I remember walking past with the same glance I’d throw at anyone. And then I heard you talk. (If you’ve wondered why I haven’t kissed you yet, it’s because I absolutely cannot bear to shut you up. At the same time, I apparently have a problem with shutting myself up, because I cannot help revealing what I’m thinking. Not around you.) Things escalated from there. That night I was in my boots, when we both just kind of stood there and smiled at each other, you have no idea how hard my heart pounded, and the words on my mind that moment were: f**k. I’ve got a crush.
                I quit seeing the engaged guy shortly after that. He told me that chasing crushes rarely ever worked out well. But I wasn’t going to even attempt to know you while I was doing something as dirty as that. I wanted to be worth your while. I still do. I still wonder if I am.
                I can’t put my finger on when Crush turned into Like, but it happened. By the way, that message I sent to twelve people with my phone number? I did that to not be so obvious about giving you my number. You texting me ten minutes afterward kind of shattered that notion. It was obvious. I didn’t even have to ask, but I figured it would be the easiest way to confess my own feelings. I’d been holding off on the flirting a good deal in order to do things the right way, and get to know you before anything happened. I hadn’t had great success with that the past few guys, and it bothered me.
                I still find it hard to believe that anything could work between us for a few reasons:

1.       You smoke weed and I drink (though I did just recently quit). Truth be told, though, I am tired of being around weed. Drugs in general, really. Legal or illegal.

2.       The age difference. This had me worried at first, but the more I learn about you, the less daunting it seems. I figured, though, that at nineteen, you wouldn’t want commitment. I know that I felt trapped rather than happily taken at nineteen. I’m not you, though.

3.       The circumstances. I’m leaving town in May, and moving two hours away, which means that any relationship I start now would, at that point, either end or turn into a long-distance thing.

These things can be overcome, of course, but it would be hard to start something with this many conditions on it from day one. I think that we are extremely compatible (thus far) and likely to keep each other happy. At the very least, I can tell you that I did not expect you to exist, much less appear in my life. Like I said at the beginning of this letter, I am willing to take the risk, here. I am willing to put myself in harm’s way, and to try my hardest to not hurt you. Please consider. Please reply.

Reviews

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

A very nice story. Such honesty and candor is a rarity in everyday life. There is Genuine emotion here.
Great job!