~Writing A Love Letter~
Another crappy story by Tiarra.
Once again, as he does every day, he walks past me, waving at me slightly. Oh, how I must look like a fool, clutching my notebook to my chest, and smiling awkwardly. As always, he flashes me that small, heart-melting smile. The smile that is just for me.
"I don't smile." He told me once.
"You smile at me, ever day as we pass each other in the hallway." I had replied to him. And then he had smiled that tender smile at me again. Gods, if he only knew....
"I only smile for you, because it makes you happy." He retorts. "I don't smile for anyone else."
My face flushed at that moment- I could feel it. The most beautiful thing in the world, his smile, was a gift that was given only to me.
As he passes me by, he looks around at the other people around us and his smile fades. I stop and turn to look at him as he continues on his way. Despite the fact that we've grown up together, have been friends since childhood- despite the fact that we spend so much time together, despite the fact that we live next door to each other, he doesn't notice that I exist. And, he doesn't know how much I love him.
In my own world, filled with magic and illusion, he is a god. He is all that I ever dream of. His hair is soft, like a million strands of finely woven black silk. His skin soft- a faded tan color. His eyes are like large, ebony jewels which sparkle with the slightest hint of light. That smile that melts my heart, the gentle yet firm voice that makes my soul quiver, and his brute strength accompanied by a vast knowledge. All of this I worship him for. He is perfect in every way.
Yet, I know, he is alone. He never smiles, he never speaks.
Why is it that he can't see how much I adore him? What is it that makes him overlook the fact that I love him with all of my heart, and all of my soul?
I am a plain girl- not very pretty. Long, blonde hair which is often tied back, and green eyes which are faded, and almost lifeless, it seems. They lack the sparkle that his eyes hold. I am not smart like he, nor am I strong like he. Perhaps this is why he does not notice me. I am not any of the things he is, or he inspires to be. I am an artist, nothing more. My notebook, which I cling to dearly at all times, is filled with drawings and sketches of him. This is the only way I will ever be able to hold him. In this tattered book, and perhaps in my dreams.
Letting my gaze drift from him, I reluctantly start to turn, until my eyes spot something on the ground. As he walked past, he had dropped something. I bend down, picking up the folded envelope, and I see the heart drawn on it. Could it be? Could he have finally found someone whom he loves? I feel my heart breaking into a thousand tiny pieces- like a glass figurine that has been carelessly thrown aside.
I am tempted to open the envelope, and see who the demon it is addressed to is. I want to know what evil enchantress has captured the heart of *my* love, and I want to hurt her. I want to rip out her throat, and tear out her hair, and gouge out her eyes, and scream at the top of my lungs. Unfortunately, because I do not dare open the letter, I do nothing but the latter.
I call out his name, loud enough for him to hear, and he stops and turns around. Briskly walking to him I explain, "You seemed to have dropped this envelope! It looks very important, I wouldn't want you to lose it." I shove the envelope into his hands, and I see him examine it to make sure it hasn't been opened. Unsteadily, I turn and start to walk away. My head is spinning, my heart pounding. My only reason for living has found someone. He is no longer mine. I feel like weeping.
"Wait!" I hear him call. I stop walking, and merely stand there, my eyes brimming with tears. I can't believe I've lost control. Did I ever really expect him to care about me? Did I ever really expect him to love me the way I love him. Sadly, the answer is yes, and yet another hopeless dream is shattered. Blinking the tears back, I turn around.
"I just wanted to say thank you." He tells me, "This letter is for someone very important to me." With that, he turns on his heels and continues to walk down the hall. I sigh sadly.
The school day seems to drag along rather slowly. I don't pay attention in any of my classes, and because of this am reprimanded many times. I don't care. I have nothing to care about except him. I must face the fact that he has found his love in someone else. I must be happy for him.
Finally, the school day ends. What a relief it is to be out in the fresh air. Usually, he and I meet, and we walk home together. Today, however, I walk home alone. Along the road, I stop, and sit behind a tree. Facing away from the road, and towards a grassy field, I stare blankly out into the sea of grass blades.
My heart stops as I hear the soft pitter-patter of feet walking down the road. It's him. I sit completely still, letting him pass without saying a word. When I no longer hear him, I let out a sigh of relief, and a small sob. I force my tears back and stand. Mother will need help cooking dinner, so I should go home.
Slowly, I make my way down the road, until finally I make it to my block. I see him, sitting on his porch, but I try to ignore him. I do my best not to look in his direction as I pass his house, and head towards the one next to it- my home. And, as I pass his house, I realize that in order to let go of him, I very well may have to let go of my soul, and let it die.
I stop at the mailbox before I head in. Inside, there is only one article: a small, slightly folded envelope, with a heart drawn on its front.