Ah, it's a letter. To an unrequited love. It's time to let go of him now. He'll never read it, and if he does, he'll never guess it's for him. Thank God.
I'm tired of waiting. You provoke me and you exasperate me, and you hurt so, so badly and you refuse to let my help you and I'm sick of you. I'm sick of searching for your face in the crowd. I know you're aware of me. I know you care. It's just...not enough. Not enough to keep you from dating Sari. I mean, she's nice, but the fact that you asked her out kind of sends a message, you know? And I would never try to split you up.
So, what was I to you? Just an amusing child? Somebody to tease? To flirt with? To trade funny little innuendoes with? I'm glad now that I never allowed you to so much as shake my hand. Because if I had, I would be left with nothing but the memory of the way you touched me and the way you smiled and I'm not going to do that. I don't want to remember you as my first love. My only unrequited love. I hate that I need you now, but I also want so much to be able to remember you as my childhood friend and to tell my kids about this silly boy I played with as a little girl. I would like to make sure that my children and grandchildren, at least, remember you. But you're so cussedly stubborn, love. So insistent on crumbling all my little illusions.
Damn it. I intended to just write this as a way of letting go, and then posting it online...well, for sympathy, to be honest. But, Xander, you manage to sidetrack me even in a letter you'll never read, never answer. Of all the things I could say here, all the things I'll never actually confess to you in person...I hate you. I love you. Probably always will. Forgive me?
-Insomnia Breeds Insanity