Tonight’s letter wasn’t going to be yours. However, I’m far too tired and slightly drunk, so I need a quickie. Yours is a quickie. Just like you were.
Let’s start off with the first time I met you. I had to pay a fine for late books, and you didn’t tell me I did, but I knew I did. So I doubled back and asked you how much I owe. I ended up owing more than I had calculated and the way you handled that whole situation made me feel intimidated and awkward. I didn’t really encounter you again until I got hired as the new library assistant and I remember telling Alyza, “oh god, I have to work with kid with the face. I think he hates me.”
Turns out, you didn’t hate me. You found me amusing and I found you charming and somehow I ended up developing an unnatural school-girl crush on you. I mean, it was hard and it was fast and it kind of disgusts me looking back on it. But there it was. Four months of hoping and bending-over-backwards and for what? Absolutely nothing.
I think in the back of my mind I knew you didn’t like me the same way, but I refused to give in to that truth because I was so enamored with the idea of you that I let it consume me. You made me feel happy like I hadn’t felt in a long time. I remember leaving work every night with the biggest most digustingly infectious smile on my face. But I do not regret that happiness, nor do I honestly regret wasting 4 months on you, because I don’t believe in regrets. However, I will always be pissed at you for stringing me along like that.
It was not okay then, and nor should it ever be okay to string someone along like that because it feeds your ego. No. And I know that’s why you did it. But thank god for that day when you finally told me you didn’t feel the same way. The moment I read those words, I simultaneously felt my stomach plummet and a weight lift off my shoulders. It was like I was carrying around this heaviness of fear and doubt and you turned the key in the lock and I became sane again.
The sad part is even after all of that, you still tried to kindle my fire when I was clearly giving you signals that I wasn’t interested anymore. No, I don’t want to make your Batman costume, no I don’t want to do whatever other miscellaneous thing you want, and most of all, you will not get me to do these things through your charisma like you used to be able to. That time is long gone.
Lastly, I suppose I should thank you, actually. Thank you for teaching me not to fall for egoistic douchebags. That’s one weed I’ve pulled. Next!
Love and shit,