Dear... L
A few days ago you sent me something, it was morse code of the letter R, you said you wanted to get it tattooed.
Truthfully, it was a dot, a line, and another dot. Truthfully, your "figure it out", probably wasn't anything more than you telling me to get it right. But I wanted it to be. I never realized how bad I wanted that stupid little iMessage drawing to be more than it was. I don't know why it didn't occur to me earlier, the fact that I was (read: am) in love with you.
Honestly, I figured the little comparisons I'd draw between you and every single celebrity crush were a coincidence. I blamed your good taste when I realized that every time I pictured my NYC apartment it was with the rooftop garden and library you always wanted. When the thought of seeing you in a prom dress made my throat go dry, I assumed I was jealous about your figure; and when I actually got jealous of you and him together, I supposed it became wanting a boyfriend like yours. And when we hung out in the locker room (the day you were dancing to your cheesy Tik Tok music) I figured that the reason I wanted to kiss you so badly was… because I was lonely. Yeah, I didn't believe the last one myself, but (like the coward I am) I put it in the back of my mind and repressed it like I do everything else.
The thing is though, since I realized how bad I wanted you to say you want my initials tattooed, or how badly I wanted that stupid dot-dash-dot to mean more than it did, I CANNOT REPRESS ANYMORE. The neat little box of feelings I had with your name on it EXPLODED... and I can't close it again. Trust me. I've tried.
L, I don't know what I'm trying to do with this letter. Part of me wants you to see it. A much larger part is hoping that this equates to telling you the truth, and my feelings will go away.
The rest of me just needs to get something out there. Either way, this is my first and last concrete thought of you because I will close the chapter on you L... one day.