No, the truth is that I don't know what I'll do. All I know is that I need to tell this story, my story.
Our story, if I might be so bold.
You wanted an explanation, didn't you? Maybe yes, maybe no. But wether you wanted one or not, here it is.
Get ready for it.
I think I first started liking you in January last year. I brushed it aside and just allowed my feelings to grow while I desperately ignored them all. Sitting here now, with all of this over a year behind us, I realize that my first mistake was made there. I should have just thought about it, but you know that I was scared. Who could blame me? I'd been struggling with the thought of homosexuality for several years and finally the one thing that I dreaded had happened: I had begun to fall in love with a girl.
You didn't realize it, I don't think. That note probably came as a huge shock to you. If it didn't, you certaintly hid your knowledge quite well. I remember that e-mail that you sent me. I don't even think you realized how much you hurt me. I poured my heart and soul into that letter that I have come to hate, to despise. You just seemed to throw it into the background and ignore it completely.
"Use this in one of your stories," you wrote.
And so here it is, in our own story. Bet this surprises you, doesn't it? That I would not only tell everyone, but actually write out my note in here.
Well, in any case, by March, I was getting desperate. I was falling every day into an endless spiral of hatred for my own feelings and an odd longing for you to return my feelings. I knew you never would, but I still had a fragment of hope that, the more I thought about it, turned quickly into an obsession of mine. Don't take this the wrong way, but by that time (you may have noticed) I grew quite defensive of you. You held my heart, controlled my feelings and thoughts, yet still I couldn't tell you.
Time was running out by April; I knew that I had to tell you soon. After all, school was almost out! What if I never got my chance?
If it helps you understand anything better, here is my diary entry from April 30. The things in (-) are what I added for clairity.
April 30, 2003; 8:09 pm-
Talking to Ally :*( on the phone. I told her how I felt on (April 29) Tuesday. It feels like it
happened so long ago... only a day and a few hours ago. On Monday, I dressed up 'cause
I was gonna tell her, but I chickened out. I called her up later to tell her the note that I told
her earlier (in math class) was for someone I liked was meant for her. She didn't seem to
understand. Tuesday at 7:30 or so in the library, I gave her my rough and final copy or the
note. At lunch, I told Marysa 'bout Ally. She took it well but was surprised. I was walking
down the (math) hall (at school) and she looks at me and says, "I'll e-mail you." She's all I
can think about for the rest of the day. After school, I saw her and apologized. She said it
was okay and that she didn't hate me.
I went to work and I could think of nothing else. When I got home, I immediately checked
my e-mail. To my great dismay, there was no letter from Ally. When I asked her about it
today, she said that she had to watch a movie w/her dad. The rest of the day is pretty much
a blur. During an assembly, she sat in front of me. I couldn't help but gaze at her. During math
I had such a hard time concentrating, what with her sitting next to me. After class, I told her
to send me an e-mail I am attatching copies of the e-mail, my reply, and of the rough copy
of my note.
When I read her e-mail, as nicely worded as it was, I started crying. The responce (that I sent
to her) was much braver and "less sad" than I felt. I went and took a bath, called Jessie and
Marysa on 3-way. Marysa was a better help than Jessie. Later I told Corey (my brother) what
happened and cried some more. All in all, I cried 3-5 times. Nothing, no words, can mend a
broken heart. Here are the rough copy, her reply, and my responce.
(Copies attatched in diary.)
*Sighs* Well, there you have it. I hope that you understand a bit more of what I went through. Not that you truly cared, but you were still my friend, and after "Prosti" is complete, it is my wish that you tell me what you thought. I know that I told you that you'd never have to hear about all of this again, but that was last year. Anything that you may have felt, I am hoping that you have let go of.
This writing is helping me to let go of my own feelings.
Why did I write you that letter, you may ask.
It is simple. Because I couldn't take being alone and holding that inside me for so long. I had to at least try, even though I knew that I couldn't have you. I had to try.
There you have it. Your explanation.
I can only hope that it is enough.