You really didn't have to react that way. You really didn't have to gaze at my face with such an air of disgust, as if I was nothing more than a crushed worm glued to the sole of your shoe. Your eyes were full of contempt, and you pushed me violently, making me fall, and letting all the valentine chocolate fall onto the ground as well.
What a waste, I thought. All those efforts, all this hope, for nothing in the end.
Just infinite misery, and hatred from you.
So under the rain of your insults, it was only normal that I started to run far away, and to look for a safe place to hide in the deserted school, far from your anger that I unfortunately sparked.
In a way, I was glad that I waited after the end of classes, and even after club activities.
You couldn't imagine how much of a relief it is to finally be able to cry alone and let go of your sadness, after so long.
The classroom was slowly getting darker, and the white board in front of me made me think of how empty I felt after all what happened.
Did you know, I was aware, deep down inside me, that I had absolutely no chance ?
It is already difficult to reveal your feelings to someone, especially at the young age of seventeen, and it is even harder when there is no previous friendly conversation to fall back on when I tried to talk to you first. So right now, I am doing my very best to write his letter to you, so you can understand me after all. I just hope that you won't be angry, that you will pity me a little bit. Maybe even have some compassion.
But perhaps I am too hopeful. After all, you reacted in such a violent way when you realized another boy had feelings for you.
Maybe in another country this wouldn't have been such an issue. You would have listened to me to the very end, maybe shook my shoulder gently, smiled a little bit awkwardly, and told me in a nice way that you weren't interested, that you couldn't even think about what I was going through because I was too different. Maybe you would have liked my measured response and my demure personality. Maybe you would have initiated the conversation when you crossed my way before classes, only by politeness, and, - am I dreaming too much ? - you would have slowly, little by little, opened up about the possibility of being friends.
I would have been such a good friend to you. I would have celebrated your accomplishments, encouraged you in difficult times, I would have always been by your side. Even if my feelings were obvious, I would have pulled through, gritted my teeth, and accepted whatever life decided to throw my way, because it was obvious that nothing was going to be easy for me.
For a long time I tried to find an answer. Was I malformed, condemned from birth to a life devoid of romantic love ? Did I develop this condition later, without even realizing it ? Was it my fault, that I always cried too easily, and that somehow it changed me so much ?
To this day I don't have the answer, and maybe I should even stop looking.
All the justification in the world couldn't hold a candle compared to how much I was glad to fall in love with you. Maybe all this deformity was worth it, in the end, if it enabled me to love this much, and to experience what enchantment was like.
I remembered that we learned this at school. The Latin meaning of the word carmen, which embraced several definitions ; simultaneously a poem, a spell, and a song, inherited from the Romans that believed words could contain magic, and that speaking was such a powerful force. Truly, falling for you was an enchantment. Without realizing, I was under your spell, like a wicked melody was pulling me away from my usual thoughts and leading me far away, where I couldn't stuff my forbidden emotions deep inside me. Innocent and naive, I was lured to a dark place with only you in it, like the pied piper of Hamelin led all the children away to get his revenge on the inhabitants who didn't acknowledge him.
My only hope now is that I wish not to be the only one experiencing this. Perhaps while breaking away from the spell I could look around me and see many faces with the same sorrow painted on them, the same hopeless expression in their eyes. Would it be possible for all of us to suddenly pull away from the spell, to stuff our ears with wax, and walk for a long time hoping to find our way back to the city ? If everyone tries hard enough, might it be achievable ?
Perhaps this naive mindset is what will lose me. I was already too hopeful when it comes to you, you are free to cast your judgment on my abilities to correctly assess a situation.
All I can do now is write these words and cry silently, hoping that no one would ever open the door. I want to stay here for a long time, numb to my own feelings, and my body being all numb too, to the point that the biology teacher would use me to demonstrate human anatomy, like the skeleton in the laboratory. Without even blinking, I would stay motionless, deadly still under the manipulations of the teacher, who could bend me in any way possible, without me letting a single sound out. Generations of students would learn so much thanks to me, and maybe that way I could finally accomplish something.
However I can now hear you calling for me. Faintly at first, then louder and louder, while you rampaged the floors searching for me. Initially I was overcome with joy, as I thought you wanted to apologize, come back on your words, and, why not, decided to change your mind about your answer.
Nonetheless, I figured out that I was irrevocably wrong when you came a bit closer and I could hear you better.
Your voice was full of anger, and dark with an intense hatred I never heard from you before. To be honest, it scared me. I could also understand that you were accompanied with your group of friends that I never liked. They were helping you search for me, amidst the noise of flipped chairs and tables, pencil cases thrown around, and chalkboards being filled with insults. I caught on a very specific word, starting with the letter F, and I knew it was over.
There was nothing I could do anymore, my love confession was such an insult to you that you enlisted the help of your squad to get rid of me, or hit me hard enough to put me back into my place.
I can already picture that scene very well, me on the ground, curled up protectively around my chest and stomach, and you well above me, staring with disregard, while your male friends, all trying -and failing- to imitate you, would kick me again and again, until my mouth was too full of blood to speak and my body more blue than white.
Even imagining this makes my heart beat fast with sadness and fear. I am pretty sure I would die of heartbreak long before your friends could hurt me.
So I decided that I would hide once again. I see nowhere to put myself in this classroom, no closet or hidden room, no desk thick enough to conceal me.
However, the opened windows with the large white curtains swaying softly are appealing, as they offer a much better suited solution. As I am wrapping up this letter, I can hear you running along the corridor of my floor. I am sorry that I ever spoke to you. But I don't regret what I felt, because it was probably the only time I will feel such things. Please burn this once you read it, I don't want anyone else to know.
What a waste, I thought. All those efforts, all this hope, for nothing in the end.
Just infinite misery, and hatred from you.
So under the rain of your insults, it was only normal that I started to run far away, and to look for a safe place to hide in the deserted school, far from your anger that I unfortunately sparked.
In a way, I was glad that I waited after the end of classes, and even after club activities.
You couldn't imagine how much of a relief it is to finally be able to cry alone and let go of your sadness, after so long.
The classroom was slowly getting darker, and the white board in front of me made me think of how empty I felt after all what happened.
Did you know, I was aware, deep down inside me, that I had absolutely no chance ?
It is already difficult to reveal your feelings to someone, especially at the young age of seventeen, and it is even harder when there is no previous friendly conversation to fall back on when I tried to talk to you first. So right now, I am doing my very best to write his letter to you, so you can understand me after all. I just hope that you won't be angry, that you will pity me a little bit. Maybe even have some compassion.
But perhaps I am too hopeful. After all, you reacted in such a violent way when you realized another boy had feelings for you.
Maybe in another country this wouldn't have been such an issue. You would have listened to me to the very end, maybe shook my shoulder gently, smiled a little bit awkwardly, and told me in a nice way that you weren't interested, that you couldn't even think about what I was going through because I was too different. Maybe you would have liked my measured response and my demure personality. Maybe you would have initiated the conversation when you crossed my way before classes, only by politeness, and, - am I dreaming too much ? - you would have slowly, little by little, opened up about the possibility of being friends.
I would have been such a good friend to you. I would have celebrated your accomplishments, encouraged you in difficult times, I would have always been by your side. Even if my feelings were obvious, I would have pulled through, gritted my teeth, and accepted whatever life decided to throw my way, because it was obvious that nothing was going to be easy for me.
For a long time I tried to find an answer. Was I malformed, condemned from birth to a life devoid of romantic love ? Did I develop this condition later, without even realizing it ? Was it my fault, that I always cried too easily, and that somehow it changed me so much ?
To this day I don't have the answer, and maybe I should even stop looking.
All the justification in the world couldn't hold a candle compared to how much I was glad to fall in love with you. Maybe all this deformity was worth it, in the end, if it enabled me to love this much, and to experience what enchantment was like.
I remembered that we learned this at school. The Latin meaning of the word carmen, which embraced several definitions ; simultaneously a poem, a spell, and a song, inherited from the Romans that believed words could contain magic, and that speaking was such a powerful force. Truly, falling for you was an enchantment. Without realizing, I was under your spell, like a wicked melody was pulling me away from my usual thoughts and leading me far away, where I couldn't stuff my forbidden emotions deep inside me. Innocent and naive, I was lured to a dark place with only you in it, like the pied piper of Hamelin led all the children away to get his revenge on the inhabitants who didn't acknowledge him.
My only hope now is that I wish not to be the only one experiencing this. Perhaps while breaking away from the spell I could look around me and see many faces with the same sorrow painted on them, the same hopeless expression in their eyes. Would it be possible for all of us to suddenly pull away from the spell, to stuff our ears with wax, and walk for a long time hoping to find our way back to the city ? If everyone tries hard enough, might it be achievable ?
Perhaps this naive mindset is what will lose me. I was already too hopeful when it comes to you, you are free to cast your judgment on my abilities to correctly assess a situation.
All I can do now is write these words and cry silently, hoping that no one would ever open the door. I want to stay here for a long time, numb to my own feelings, and my body being all numb too, to the point that the biology teacher would use me to demonstrate human anatomy, like the skeleton in the laboratory. Without even blinking, I would stay motionless, deadly still under the manipulations of the teacher, who could bend me in any way possible, without me letting a single sound out. Generations of students would learn so much thanks to me, and maybe that way I could finally accomplish something.
However I can now hear you calling for me. Faintly at first, then louder and louder, while you rampaged the floors searching for me. Initially I was overcome with joy, as I thought you wanted to apologize, come back on your words, and, why not, decided to change your mind about your answer.
Nonetheless, I figured out that I was irrevocably wrong when you came a bit closer and I could hear you better.
Your voice was full of anger, and dark with an intense hatred I never heard from you before. To be honest, it scared me. I could also understand that you were accompanied with your group of friends that I never liked. They were helping you search for me, amidst the noise of flipped chairs and tables, pencil cases thrown around, and chalkboards being filled with insults. I caught on a very specific word, starting with the letter F, and I knew it was over.
There was nothing I could do anymore, my love confession was such an insult to you that you enlisted the help of your squad to get rid of me, or hit me hard enough to put me back into my place.
I can already picture that scene very well, me on the ground, curled up protectively around my chest and stomach, and you well above me, staring with disregard, while your male friends, all trying -and failing- to imitate you, would kick me again and again, until my mouth was too full of blood to speak and my body more blue than white.
Even imagining this makes my heart beat fast with sadness and fear. I am pretty sure I would die of heartbreak long before your friends could hurt me.
So I decided that I would hide once again. I see nowhere to put myself in this classroom, no closet or hidden room, no desk thick enough to conceal me.
However, the opened windows with the large white curtains swaying softly are appealing, as they offer a much better suited solution. As I am wrapping up this letter, I can hear you running along the corridor of my floor. I am sorry that I ever spoke to you. But I don't regret what I felt, because it was probably the only time I will feel such things. Please burn this once you read it, I don't want anyone else to know.