Dear Sixth-Grade Crush
Dear sixth-grade crush. I stumbled upon some photos of the high school we went to. Memories hit me like a freight train. It took me back to almost a decade ago. It took me back to you.
When I closed my eyes, I could smell the dew drops on fresh grass. You know, back in eighth grade when I had to get to school at 6 am for the extra classes. I could see all the brown buildings that I spent a good half of my day in. Remember the times when our friends would try to get us to talk to each other? I was so shy. I used to hang around in front of my class, hoping that day was the day you would finally get up the courage to talk to me. Like we used to.
We only talked during sixth grade. Even then, it was never a civil conversation. You would tease me, and I would fire back. You were being sweet in your own 12-year-old adorable Mr. Popular douche way, and I was feisty in my own queen-bee kind of way. We never had classes together since sixth grade. Even so, I don't know if you ever realized this, but you were the pinnacle of my existence.
My heart leaped every time you walked past my class. My heart stood still every time you stole glances at me. I kept hoping. Maybe one day. Maybe one day, you would talk to me again. Maybe one day we would finally be together. How could we not? I was the princess, and you were the prince -- the prince that I pined for for six whole years.
Every love song I heard, my soul sought for you. The melodies, the chords, the lyrics, the keys, the serenades, I felt that they sang for you. From me. It was always you. I would listen to a certain song for weeks, envisioning you crooning the melodies to me.
I collected a string of admirers along the way. But they were never enough. They were not you. I loved you ardently, wholeheartedly, insanely. Still, it was not enough.
Then life takes over. I grew up. One day, an epiphany hit me. I was never in love with you. I was in love with the idea of love. Of course. We never had a deep, meaningful conversation. I never really knew who you were. I was in love with this handsome, clean-cut boy that I crafted in my head. My unrequited love was bittersweet.
I met you over two weeks ago. You hadn't changed much. You were with your girlfriend. I was with my boyfriend, too, but in that moment, I was no longer Catherine. I was the 12-year-old girl obsessing with this 14-year-old boy. Simple time. Puppy love.
Your girlfriend didn't like me. She gave me the death glare when I smiled at you. You didn't acknowledged my existence. Maybe you didn't recognize me. Maybe you forgot I existed. Maybe you never cared.
Weeks later, I found out that you deleted me from your Facebook. Maybe your girlfriend told you to do it. Maybe you wanted nothing to do with me. It's okay. I'm 21 now. I'm no longer 12. I have a loving boyfriend. He can be quite an asshole sometimes, but I love him dearly. He's not you, but I never want him to be. He's everything that I could hope for. You know what's the best thing is? He's real. I'm in love with him, not the idea of love.
But still. Even after nine years, I still think about you from time to time. Just hearing a song could spark memories of you. Chills run down my spine. I get butterflies in my tummy. I smell fresh grass and candies. I see Christmas cards. I see chances that were never taken. I see a love that never took off. My nerves tingle and I shudder. They sing. They sing for the unrequited love. After all, you know what they say about unrequited love. "One is never too old to yearn."
P.S. I hope you're doing well.
When I closed my eyes, I could smell the dew drops on fresh grass. You know, back in eighth grade when I had to get to school at 6 am for the extra classes. I could see all the brown buildings that I spent a good half of my day in. Remember the times when our friends would try to get us to talk to each other? I was so shy. I used to hang around in front of my class, hoping that day was the day you would finally get up the courage to talk to me. Like we used to.
We only talked during sixth grade. Even then, it was never a civil conversation. You would tease me, and I would fire back. You were being sweet in your own 12-year-old adorable Mr. Popular douche way, and I was feisty in my own queen-bee kind of way. We never had classes together since sixth grade. Even so, I don't know if you ever realized this, but you were the pinnacle of my existence.
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| Source: Photodoto |
Every love song I heard, my soul sought for you. The melodies, the chords, the lyrics, the keys, the serenades, I felt that they sang for you. From me. It was always you. I would listen to a certain song for weeks, envisioning you crooning the melodies to me.
I collected a string of admirers along the way. But they were never enough. They were not you. I loved you ardently, wholeheartedly, insanely. Still, it was not enough.
Then life takes over. I grew up. One day, an epiphany hit me. I was never in love with you. I was in love with the idea of love. Of course. We never had a deep, meaningful conversation. I never really knew who you were. I was in love with this handsome, clean-cut boy that I crafted in my head. My unrequited love was bittersweet.
I met you over two weeks ago. You hadn't changed much. You were with your girlfriend. I was with my boyfriend, too, but in that moment, I was no longer Catherine. I was the 12-year-old girl obsessing with this 14-year-old boy. Simple time. Puppy love.
Your girlfriend didn't like me. She gave me the death glare when I smiled at you. You didn't acknowledged my existence. Maybe you didn't recognize me. Maybe you forgot I existed. Maybe you never cared.
Weeks later, I found out that you deleted me from your Facebook. Maybe your girlfriend told you to do it. Maybe you wanted nothing to do with me. It's okay. I'm 21 now. I'm no longer 12. I have a loving boyfriend. He can be quite an asshole sometimes, but I love him dearly. He's not you, but I never want him to be. He's everything that I could hope for. You know what's the best thing is? He's real. I'm in love with him, not the idea of love.
But still. Even after nine years, I still think about you from time to time. Just hearing a song could spark memories of you. Chills run down my spine. I get butterflies in my tummy. I smell fresh grass and candies. I see Christmas cards. I see chances that were never taken. I see a love that never took off. My nerves tingle and I shudder. They sing. They sing for the unrequited love. After all, you know what they say about unrequited love. "One is never too old to yearn."
P.S. I hope you're doing well.
Love, Catherine
XOXO
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