Love Letter

Dear Reader,

This is not necessarily a love letter. But rather sentences and thoughts that have been carefully strung together from the heart. Last words, if you will, to the person these thoughts are aimed at for when I see him again in early/mid-January of 2011. Most likely, I'll never actually speak this words.

So, this is to relieve myself of my thoughts and my pains. This is for anyone who will listen.

love,
asc.

----

We barely even kissed. We kissed but..it was so rushed and so fast that I can't even remember it. I can remember the feel of your mouth on my body, your hand touching me, my hand..touching you, and then you trying. But, I can't remember the feel of your lips pressed against mine.

I've never been kissed, you know. I've kissed once before but it was not the best experience. I've never been..passionately kissed. Or kissed with feeling.

The most simplest of all physical sexual interaction that usually starts anything and everything between two people. And we didn't do it. We didn't kiss.

I'm the kind of person where every single first of mine is a momentous one. First day of school, first best friend, first crush, first kiss, first boyfriend..you get the idea. But the kind of person where I simply treasure my firsts, not fuss over how I want my first to be like. Even so, I never expected that after my first time doing anything, I would feel so..used. Robbed. Cheated of my first time.

I wasn't even some random girl you met at a club or randomly on campus or through someone else. I was your friend. I was your teammate. I was a girl whom you probably figured had a thing for you. And you went for me anyway, with no intention of taking responsibility afterward.

I know what you're probably thinking: Angela is being "hella weird" right now and making things "hella awkward." You don't get to think that, though. You don't get to tell me that I'm overreacting or that I'm being melodramatic. You don't get to call me the "crazy emotional, virginal little girl." You don't get to think of me the way you thought of your "crazy Christian" ex-girlfriend.

I thought I was over it. I'm not. I don't even have romantic feelings for you -- it's all physical if anything. But because you were my first time doing anything, even if we didn't actually do it, you're no longer just "Brad," the cute guy on the debate team. You're a little bit more than that.


With the new year, you'd think it'd mean a clean and fresh slate. A new beginning. But, still after two and half months, I'm still hurting. And you do not deserve not to know that.

During winter break was fine. I was fine. Of course, I thought about you a little bit every day. How can I not? But the fact that I didn't have to look at your face three times a week helped. I came back to school thinking I was going to be okay and then..I see your face at practice.

And it hurts.

It hurts to want you, simply because I still find you physically attractive and I know nothing will ever happen again.

It hurts to be trying to be your friend, simply because you don't bother to do the same.

It hurts to discover little details about you or little things you do that turn me off, simply because it means that I don't have a meaningful excuse to want you.

It hurts to think about you now, simply because I know I don't respect you as much as I did before.

It hurts to look at you, simply because every time I do, I feel ashamed and embarrassed for how much time I spent in concerning myself with you for the 5 weeks following that night -- coming to the conclusion that it was all a true waste of time.

You were a waste of time.



And you don't deserve to be blissfully ignorant about how I feel. You do not deserve to not know that you hurt me. That you hurt your teammate, your friend.

I deserve better.