- I won't wax poetic because my prose won't align. I'm so clever (and unafraid of saying so) but you appear and it all goes to shit. My words will stay stark as the pages on which they're written. (27.05.12)
- Funny how I can write all of this here and then I pull up your name in my inbox—I can't bring myself to delete any of the texts you've sent me, however trivial and trite—and all I say is a meek, meager "Loved your speech; wish I'd seen you after! Congrats, anyhow. (Consider this an e-hug.)" which, I suppose, is the lite version of what's typed below. How forward of me, to even send you a text at all. How proud I was of myself. How I beamed when, several hours later, you texted me back, and I read each word in your ( not grating, not nasally, not feminine, not irritating) voice and tried my best and hardest not to blush. How teenagery of me: I would frantically check my screen every two minutes to see if you had replied. But that's it, isn't it? We don't undergo an epiphanic transformation the second they announce our graduation. God knows I didn't. I'm still just out the gate of seventeen, the spring of my eighteenth year, and my stomach will always walk tightropes around you. If you were an atrium, I would want nothing more than to be a ventricle. (01.06.12)
- “I’m proud of you.” (06.05.12)
- Even though we are not that close, I am so so proud to know you. we have known each other since seventh grade and we have been neck and neck ever since the first day we met. It might not be my place to say, but your accomplishments are both astounding and awesome. I remember almost everything about you in that regard. Of course, that sounds obsessive, which has never been my intention or my nature. But I think it’s safe to say that you inspire me in more ways than one.
- I remember how you read War and Peace in seventh grade. That year, we tied perfect scores on the end of course exam, the only two students at our school to accomplish such a feat. Eighth grade we were both Knowledge Bowl captains. I didn’t feel then the way I do now but I already knew that we work well together and that we would at least be friends. Your …interesting poem won the poetry slam by a landslide, as it so deserved. (I’m amazed, stupefied and pleasantly surprised that a. you remember it by heart still, b. you found it after all this time, and c. your handwriting hasn’t changed in five years.)
- Accelerated biology and ninth grade in general was crazy, and once I figured out the first boy I ever liked was a complete and utter asshole, “I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.” You crept up on me, as it so goes. I wasn’t distracted by you until tenth grade in Mr Olsen’s English 10 Accel class and AP Biology, where your voice got louder and you gained a smart-kid swagger and you started to fill out your thermal tees a little bit better, and where I began to tell people how I felt about you (or they figured it out on their own, like Ari did). Your essays and interpretations were always unconventional, to say the least. What ideas and commentary we would hear were always a surprise. It still is that way, in fact.
- My eyes may have started to wander in tenth grade, but hindsight is 20/20, and I can see clearly now that any notion of having feelings for anyone else in the past four years renders me delusional and a liar. APUSH and AP Lit and pep assemblies, they all kind of blur together now, like the fluctuating levels of appropriateness in your end of year comics project for Mr Domingo.
- This year… oh. This year it’s completely different. We’re seniors now, and it’s nearing the end of the road. I figured that, even though it’s overplayed and overhyped, the motto (YOLO, of course) is the real best way to live your life. Going against your better judgement, taking a risk and leaving everything up to chance will always be worth it in the end, no matter if you end up getting what you want. Getting to know you a little bit better after all this time feel so good, and asking you to prom may be one of the best decisions of my life.
- You’re an amazing speaker, an academic legend, a true leader and a beautiful person. Regardless of how it sounds, and even though I may not ever tell you in person, I am so so proud of you. You are your own person. You are not your sister and you are not what everyone expects you to be. you are much more than that and I am so glad to know you.
- I’m unnecessarily sentimental, I know. And I am fully aware of the fact that you will never ever see, read, or hear of this. But I needed to tell you in some way. Maybe you’ll feel it.
- If only for one night... Thank you for taking a chance on this wild, naïve, crazy, unconventional, weird girl. Thank you for saying yes.
- (24.05.12) Just as a foreword, you make me overanalyse things and think too hard and write in run-on sentences. I say this as a warning about me as a person and about what I'm trying to say to you (and what I should have said sometime, any time in the past four years). I know it's too forward and I know you don't care, but I wish we had spent time together at Grad Night because I like you a lot and I have for a long time and it doesn't matter how you feel because I'm tired of just feeling it and doing nothing. Prom was really special to me and I think you're really special, too. This isn't the best medium to tell you all this, I know, but I fear if I had to tell you in person that I would lose the words. So... I'm a big dumb and isn't this the time to feel nostalgic and sentimental and hold fast to memories? I just wanted to get that off my chest. x
may 26 2012 ∞
may 14 2013 +