I’m thinking I’m the shit while hanging from the balance poles near Dewey’s brick school wall. I’m souping my head up with the idea that this recess, people think I’m doing something cool.
Some time, during my child-like egotism, you walk by me, our eyes meeting in this breath-taking way as the playground and everything around us fades away. Time stops. There is no one else but you. You feel the same way about me.
Though we don’t stand staring like third grade idiots, we look for each other, that first day.
The next day, you jog up to my class line and tell me you like me.
I never really gave you a chance, even though I thought you were so damn cute. I wrote about you in my diary, and Alana tore out the page and gave it to you and you read it. After telling you I didn’t like you, I was so embarrassed. But as I screamed and chased after her, all I saw was you smiling and laughing at me.
Your smile, it was so beautiful.
During a movie, your class came to my classroom. As Mrs. Batress but in the movie, you and Reed came and sat behind me.
I’d ignored you pointedly. You said from behind me, “I know why you don’t like me, and I can change.”
I know I didn’t show it, but those words made it hard to breathe a moment, because back then I was too naive to discern wrong from right, and your blonde curls were oh-so-cute, and your blue eyes were the clearest eyes I had ever seen.
When I’d heard that everyone knew that we liked each other, I saw you during recess, hanging out with Reed and walking on the wooden bench by the basket ball court. You smiled when you’d seen me. That smile quickly faded when I told you that I could never like you, that I wanted you to leave me alone and never talk or look at me again.
Even when Alana said that wasn’t very nice of me, I didn’t say sorry to you. Even though at the end of the year I had wrote and printed a list of reasons why I was in love with you, I never talked to you.
My sister’s husband at the time, he hit me. I was so afraid that he’d hit me for liking you that I made it to where you’d never try to talk to me again. But a year later, when our class lines were sitting in the gym, when I was pulling Reed’s ear and he threatened to punch my arm, you spoke to me. You were so hesitant and so nervous. I met your eyes for the last time then.
Then you moved, and I never saw you again. Life moved on, until in sixth grade, I thought of you.
You don’t know this, but I spent most of my childhood dreaming of you. I’d always imagined stumbling in front of you and the world fading away into a wonderful oblivion.
You’d give me that soft, half smile. The half curve of small lips, eyes looking at me with so much tenderness, I would do anything you asked me.
You don’t believe me, do you? But Damien, I loved you. From the day we met, I loved you.
I lied to you. We weren’t friends. I was a bitch to you. I was just so in awe of speaking to you, of finding you that I didn’t want to ruin things with some crazy letter like this one.
I spent six years trying to find you. Trying to remember your name, trying to find you on Myspace and Facebook. I had been convinced for six years that you were my soul mate. My twin flame. That if it wasn’t you, I could not give my heart to anyone; it wasn’t until my junior year in high school that I slowly began sorting out these feelings for you.
Some days I thought I was crazy. I didn’t know what your name was for sure. Darien? Darian? Damien? Damian? Walker? Was the last name even a W? Were your eyes really blue? Or green? And, what if you were dead? Would I be in love with ghosts of my past forever?
So my senior year, I cried over you for the last time. Sealed my feelings up in poems and in letters I would never send and prayed for your happiness. I hoped that in a new life, in our next one…I wouldn’t run from you again. In a overly cliché and dramatic way, I smiled up at the sky, tears falling on my cheeks, and said good bye.
The thought never occurred to me that perhaps the first time we ever met would have been a trivial moment for you; you don’t remember me at all. Not even now, as you read this.
But actually, I’m okay with that.
I used to regret being such a fearful child back then, I used to regret being unable to properly convey my feelings then. There were many conversations with you that I’d imagined. So many speeches and declarations. So many confessions. Image how it would go now:
“Damien! Back then I was foolish and naive, but now I…!”
“…Look, just…who are you? Alexis? The name doesn’t ring a bell. Sorry.”
Wouldn’t I seem crazy and foolish? (Laughs.) But, Damien, all the things I used to yearn to say to you — all these things I felt for you…
I don’t feel for you anymore. No, not you, but to someone that I want to spend the rest of my life with. It may have taken ten years, but there is someone that lies beside me at night, whose touch and love, body and soul I hunger for, and he’s the only person who has ever surpassed you in my heart.
I know this is all crazy, and I know you don’t remember me and you don’t understand. Damien, I’m also prepared, unlike before — I know, that after this letter, we probably will not ever talk again.
But I can’t believe I found you. I wonder what kind of person you’ve become. Have you been happy? Are you happy? How does it feel to know that for the past eight years, somewhere, a girl you don’t remember had loved you?
I want…to pray that, the kind person you were then, the passionate boy that never gave up…I hope that these qualities will never leave you.
Even though after this, you and I will probably never speak again, however I know it’s okay, because the love for you that I used to desperately cling onto…is gone, and replaced with a love for my boyfriend so strong it takes my breath away, and…talking to you these past few days and seeing this change inside me, it is a wonderful feeling that I thank you for.
The Girl You Don’t Remember