Sarah Turner

December 21, 1999

Dear Crush: Please, Please Don't Read This

I don’t know what love is,
I don’t know how it feels.
Is it wanting your lips on mine?
Or is it something more real?
I’m confused,
I’m blowing this out of proportion.
It’s like I’ve never met anybody else,
Oh, god I’m so desperate.
Waiting for hours on end,
Consumed by my so-called fantasy.
What I would do for your response,
Oh, god it’s killing me.
This is so stupid,
It’s just a waste of time.
I know we’re just friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be,
But is it so wrong to think we’ll be more?
No, stop, come on, you’ve got to get those thoughts out of your head,
Be rational, don’t wear your heart on your sleeve.
Be practical, sweetheart, don’t be so naive,
Why are you so needy?
I swear you’re so transparent, don’t let it show,
Imagine what would happen if he knows.
Don’t overcomplicate it,
You know he doesn’t feel the same.
But somehow, just some small part of me wishes he would.
Oh my god, why him?
Every idiotic comment, every irrational answer,
Every “no, I’m right” and “yes, you’re wrong”.
He’s so stubborn, he’s so cocky, he’s so immature,
He’s dumb, he’s reckless, he’s sarcastic.
He’s foul-mouthed, he’s insensitive,
Yet.
But.
Still.
Somehow.
He’s all I can think of.
The reason I stare at my ceiling fan on a Tuesday night waiting for him to respond.
The reason I keep ignoring my responsibilities and my problems.
Ugh, it’s so cheesy that I’m even writing this.
Please, I’m still young, thinking my whole life revolves around this one boy.
That’s not true.
That’s definitely not true.
I shouldn’t do this to him.
I shouldn’t do this to myself.
And if he ever read this I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.
But someday, perhaps, maybe he should.
Maybe he really should.
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