To whom it may concern,

Excuse my rant, I will be all over the place.

Anyway, I write “To whom it may concern,” not because I don’t know who I’m specifically dedicating this post to; I know EXACTLY who this is for. Rather, I say this because I do not know what to call you anymore.

I don’t think I can call you a friend because we’ve butted heads one too many times and over the couple of years, we’ve just gotten into so many messy misunderstandings that we’ve dug ourselves into a ditch. I don’t even know if I can call you an acquaintance. We don’t really see eye to eye, but I can’t exactly say I hate you either.

Now I won’t lie and say that everything is perfect between us and that I’m totally free of bitter feelings.

Lord knows that we don’t even talk and that every once in a while, I stop and think about our memories together, especially the way you hurt me. And I think how we tried to just fix our friendship, but for some reason it broke us down and it seems there’s some hidden tension between us. Pretty sure at one point or another, you thought I was being “fake,” because I would always be sarcastic or mean toward you (even though that’s just my nature and I don’t even know what’s running through your mind) and I feel as if the resentment we built over the years totally clouded our visions with assumptions and hate.

But let me tell you something.

I definitely don’t mean to be fake. I don’t know if you remember, or if you even read the letter I wrote to you last year, but I wanted to end the year on good terms. And I feel as if I have mentioned this many times before in this blog, or possibly on Twitter or Tumblr , but it’s true. When I wrote that, I wanted to start on a clean slate. I didn’t want any hatred, and I wanted to be able to be comfortable with you around our other friends and you know I wouldn’t want to wish any bad upon you, despite my random rants saying, “Can he walk off the face of the earth?” or “Ew, I hate him so much…” You can’t blame me for feeling this way because I know you’ve felt this at some point. We probably just got frustrated trying to understand each other.

To be honest, I still don’t understand you, and I’m not too sure that I ever will or that I want to. I saw you a few days ago and indirectly greeted you with an eye roll of disdain upon seeing you sitting near the top of the bleachers, but I paid no mention to you. I didn’t come to see you anyway. We kept our distance until you decided to come up to our group of friends to make conversation and I decided, “I might as well be civil” and I greeted you with an awkward handshake and hug. I was overly hyper that day, probably due to the wonderful music that was still ringing through my ears, but what’s the point of having you rain on my parade? It probably took everything inside of you to keep that calm, “nice guy” demeanor you wore when we first met. Something inside of me tells me you were looking down upon me, for a reason I will probably never know because I’m sure there are a lot of things you are hiding from me. But I found myself being comfortable again, because really, you’re not worth the worry and I think I’ve earned the right to act as crazy as I want in a place I called my second home. Plus, I quite like it better when I’m happy and things seem okay.

That being said, I still DO want to be friends. I’ve said this so much I don’t think I can count the times. But seriously, what’s the point of secretly hating each other all the time? So I hope one day, when we’re mature and settled down and successful, we can look back and laugh and say we’ve made it through and we’ve both learned our lessons and achieved the happiness we deserve, whether we’re a big part of each other’s lives or not. I don’t expect we will be, but I hope we can think of each other and smile a bit. The memories that bring back pain today will one day just be pictures in our storybooks, and we’ll just shrug and say,

“It never worked out, and that’s okay.”


Puzzle Pieces.


I thought it was perfect.

When we were trying to imagine our lives together, we wrote the words “I love you” on three random puzzle pieces, not paying attention to where we were writing because we were so blind.

Or maybe it was just me who was not paying attention.

But we quarreled and spatted and each time we tried fixing us, we saw that it would only fall apart again. And you finally had enough of it all and decided to walk away.

So one night when the tears would not stop flowing, I decided to open my box filled with memories of you and take out those three puzzle pieces.

That’s when I realized the puzzle pieces didn’t fit.

No. 2 on “A List of Things I’ll Never Say.”

I just watched this video.

It’s called “FIRST KISS.”

Tatiana Pllieva, the videographer, asked twenty strangers to kiss for the first time. On camera. And I guess she did this to highlight the awkwardness of the first kiss experience, but also the beauty of it.

And of course it made me think of you.

I remember when you used to have me watch videos like these. I would be doing homework or reading and you would message me with a smiley face, telling me to type in certain keywords or copying the whole link altogether. They were usually experiments, ranging from a chili pepper challenge to a bullying PSA.

I can still recall the first of these videos: The Mistletoe Kissing Prank by Stuart Edge.

When you showed me this, we were in a weird place. I didn’t know what we were, and frankly, this didn’t help. We agreed it was adorable and I was left wondering if you were hinting that one day you’d like to catch me under the mistletoe.

To this day, I don’t know if you ever did. Or if, somewhere in your heart, you still do, but choose not to follow through with that desire because that will only cause us trouble. Our encounters are uncomfortable now, and we only speak to each other when absolutely necessary, which is pretty much never. Again, I’ll never know.

So when I saw this video, of course I couldn’t help but think back to a few years ago when we shared our first kiss.

It was after the opening night of our high school’s spring musical. A Thursday night in March. We had gotten into a fight over some idiotic matter the day before and we wanted to apologize for acting so irrational so we talked it over. You could still smell the rain that had fallen a few hours ago. And outside of the metal door, hidden amidst chairs and other wooden props, we kissed. Little did I know that kiss-and-make-up was no real way to solve a problem. But even in the quickness of the moment, it was enough to reel me in and keep me wanting more. It’s a shame that the “real” first kiss we shared a week later turned out to be the last.

Of course the video made me think of you.

When I saw it, I had the urge to message you, not unlike you did with me not too long ago. I wanted to say, “Hey, remember when you used to show me those social experiment videos? Remember the mistletoe video? Well this one is kind of like it. I think you’ll find it interesting.” And I wanted nothing more than for you tell me that you remember. For you to feel again. For you to tell me that you miss me. For you to tell me that you wanted our lips to touch one more time.

But that would absolutely be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done, because you probably wouldn’t reply. Or if you did, you’d scoff and say, “Seriously? You’re not over me?” Or something like that. You’d push me away again and I’d be left embarrassed and things would get worse for us and it would only break me down further.

I still wish we were okay. I wish that I was walking in front of you in the rain, under my umbrella, and something would make you reach out and grab me by the waist. And I’d be shocked, but you’d pull me in and look into my eyes. And you’d be wet but I wouldn’t care because I’d be locked in your stare and then we’d close our eyes and it would happen. And I’d drop my umbrella to snake my arms around your neck and just linger there, kissing you. Like a scene from a movie. I remember you telling me that this was a dream of yours.

But that’s crazy.

Partially because we’d get hypothermia or some kind if sick. And also because it won’t happen. I’m sure those days are long gone.

Maybe you’ve watched the video. Maybe you want to show me, but you know it’s not right. Maybe you don’t care. Maybe someone else has replaced me and showed that video to you.

No one knows.

But one thing is for certain.

I won’t be the one to make you watch “FIRST KISS,” because that would tell you I still have feelings.

And that’s one of the things I’d like to be left unsaid.