You Dont Have to Listen

I cried over you that night. I know. It was stupid. Such a typical hormonal thing for a teenage girl to do. It wasn't the end of the world, you're just some stupid teenage boy, and I never expected this to go anywhere but I couldn't help but hoping.

No. That first month, we were fine; easy. We hugged a couple of times, you'd walk me to class, and whisper me goodbye where no one else would hear. Nothing too special, or out of the ordinary. And there's no telling how many times I was tempted to kiss you on your cheek, just once… something enough to make you blush, but not enough for you to respond. You were too shy for things like that. You even invited me to your end of the year Orchestra Concert. I went, of course. Probably just because I was curious as to how that dark tux would contrast with your pale skin and bright, hazel eyes.

The last day of school was full of goodbye hugs, and 'call me's and 'I'll miss you's and that blank, unimpressed look on your face as I nervously muttered similar things to you hurt me more than I'd let myself say… and of course, I was unable to that particular moment. No, I was too busy counting to 10 in my head, and concentrating on keeping the tears from my eyes, the melodramatic idiot I am.

Summer was worse. For everyone it was supposed to mean dull afternoons and nothing but free time. But to you, I guess I wasn't important enough for that. Your time. Any time spent with you would've meant the world to me… even if it mostly included you boredly staring off into space while my hands nearly shaked from simply wondering if my eyes had been a silvery blue, and my hair that certain light shade of blonde, would you have been more content.

You probably assumed I was some sort of stalker, what with the way I'd call you, text you, only to get no reply and my calls sent straight to voice mail. I gave up after a while, thinking that I'd have to see you eventually, and be forced to end it from not being able to take the way you'd look at me with that unsatisfied expression on your face.

But no, you did call once. I have to give you credit for that. I was nervous, and excited, and everything in between once you suggested we meet up the next day. It's pathetic how you could easily get me so worked up, and how you could make me feel so desperate… so forgotten.

It was going to be wonderful. You were going to be wonderful. I just knew you'd apologize, and everything would go back to being perfect because you were going to make things right again.

I guess you can say I couldn't help but be disappointed at the message I got from you 2 hours before we were supposed to meet… complaining that something had just come up and you were too busy to see me.

I hate complaining, and I hate acting like a bitch so I didn't do either. I just acted like a good little girlfriend and said back, 'okay babe, maybe some other time then,' and told myself to move on, knowing I wouldn't. And really, it was nothing. Just you probably being stupid, or lazy, or both and I was getting upset over nothing.

That's why I'm writing all of this in a letter (or I guess you can call it that), because there's no way I'd be able to say this out loud, or especially, to you. I'm a coward… I don't have the guts to tell you how I feel, or the things you do that make me so upset. And who knows… maybe you'll read this someday, long after we've moved onto other people, and feel bad. But I doubt it.