To the boy who isn't mine
If I could look you in the eye without crying, I would say something like this: I hate the way you made me feel, but I will never hate you. But it is highly unlikely I would be able to look you in the eye and say those fourteen words that have been on my mind for weeks. Partially because it's hard to look at you. Partially because this is the most I've said to you in weeks. Isn't that sad? We went from talking all day everyday to barely looking at each other. It's sad. But we're too prideful to change it. And that is the reason for this lengthy letter. A way for me to swallow my pride and say all the things I wish I could. So here's to self peace. To the boy who isn't mine, We began in the middle of September. I was shy and sad, I missed home. You were outgoing and happy, you were at home. We were thrown together by circumstance, and a meddling little brother who played match maker with his best friend and older sister. It started out as just casual flirtin