Letter to Joshua

I told myself I wouldn’t cry. I didn’t deserve to cry. I didn’t deserve to have that release; I ought to be forced to bottle up my emotions inside, always. I would gladly do that if only I had the strength. If only I weren’t so weak. So pathetic. So utterly and completely selfish. If only, if only…

You really are a sweet guy. A true Southern gentleman. An artist. You’re everything that I always fantasized about my dream guy. Well, almost. You are amazing, incredible, brilliant, and so happy—until I was finished with you. You were all those things until I took your heart and smashed it like a glass dropped to the floor. I smashed your heart and left the shards glistening on the floor. And I would’ve begged you to believe that it was all my fault. That would’ve been better than you continuing to act as my pure, holy white knight in shining armor. I would’ve rather you hate me than to suffer. And people call me a martyr.

I suppose I owe you an explanation other than ‘I don’t love you.’ But what can I say that will make things any better? That I love someone else? Yes, that’s the truth. I do, but what comfort would that bring you, huh? You still wish to know, don’t you? Of course, because you would never force me to keep myself hidden from others. You would prefer I open my heart to the world. You flatter me, truly. Shakespeare himself could do no better. Very well, if you insist.

His name is Andrew. He thinks chivalry is dead. He’s not really attractive, average in every way, but I…I am drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Surely—never you mind. You can’t understand; I don’t understand it. I love him; I always have. He’s my best friend, my companion, my soul mate, my aibou, my knight, my guardian angel. He’s the reason a smile comes unbidden to my lips when I hear the band play. He’s the reason my eyes sparkle like champagne when I hear the choir sing. Yeah, he was a band geek, now that you ask.

I didn’t know you cut yourself. I wonder if some of those cuts are from me. I’m not appalled—just worried. And guilty, so, so very guilty…but would you rather I be unfaithful? You’re right; it’s not your fault you fell victim to my girlish crush. And do you want to hear the irony? We can’t be because he doesn’t know. Six long years I’ve hidden from him that I love him more than all the money in the world, and yet, how that keeps us apart. He’s rich, or at least his parents are, so I’m already out-classed. Then, there’s the other thing; he’s my best friend’s brother. And then…there’s…him. I can’t tell you his name. Only know that I trusted him as you should be able to trust your family, and…oh my…no, please, don’t give me your sympathy. It shouldn’t bother me. I wish I could blame everything on him. But in truth…my spirit won’t allow it.

So you’re the dark, fallen hero lying at my feet, and I’m the cruel, confused girl who brought you so low. I want to help you pick up the pieces, but it’s as if each shard stabs me, too. It hurts so badly. At least the others took up stance beside you to support you. At least they hold fast with you. I wouldn’t have wished it any other way. My poor broken hero, you lost my heart and yours because of a boy you’ve never met and one whom I can never have.





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