A Love Letter for Someone

Tuesday, February 02

By Sophia Marie Green

Dear person who this is for, I had another dream about you last night.

It's the fourth one I've had about you. This time, you had helped me with something and when I thanked you, we hugged. It felt really good, and I wish we could hug like that in real life. Maybe we will, and that was a sign of some sorts. Like how they say that if you dream about school then you're going to make new friends. But I've never beleived in that stuff before, so why should I now.

I really like having dreams about you. It makes me feel like there might be a possibility that I could be with you, and the dreams give me false memories of you that I can cherish. I wonder if you ever have dreams about me. Probably not, but it's still fun to imagine.

I wish I had the courage to talk to you. I have, but I wish I could talk to you more, and say things that you like hearing and that I like saying. I wish I could tell you things that I don't tell other people, and maybe you could do the same. I was going to ask for your number one time, on a day that I felt really bold, but you were talking to another girl and I didn't want to look stupid.

I've had crushes on people before, and I can't remember if I felt this way about them, or if you're special. You are special in the sense that you are the most unreachable of anyone I've ever liked. Why did I have to fall for someone I could never have? It wasn't suppose to be like this. You were suppose to be a simple crush. Nothing special. I would lose interest over time and that would be that. But I keep thinking of you, admiring you, wanting you. It's at the point now where I'm hurting because I know that I can never be with you.

I haven't seen you in a while. I was supposed to see you yesterday, but that didn't work out. I saw you a few days ago, but I don't think you saw me, and it's not the same if I can't feel your eyes on me, even if just for a second. I'm sure that the times you look at me it isn't for the reason that I hope it is; I'm always kind of out of place where I see you. But I'm fitting in more and you still look at me, more that any of your friends. That must be nothing, though. I should stop getting hopeful.

I know that you're never going to see this, and I hope that you never do, but it feels good to attempt to express my feelings towards you for an audience that I will never see. It's embarrassing to talk to my friends. My face turns red and my palms get sweaty and I feel weird when the truths fall from my mouth. But I am grateful that I can admit how I feel about you now.

With much love,


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