The Note

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

This isn't a confession in the sense that you think at first, but if you are who I wrote this about; it's something I had to do to get it off my chest.

I'm sorry.

Submitted: December 03, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 03, 2017



It all started when we were young.

I was a very shy child. Never played with the other children, or cared to make friends. I was a very sick child, always in and out of hospitals. The only friends I had at that time were my pets, and living out in the middle of nowhere, I never had the luxury of neighborhood kids to play with.


But then I met you.

It was in the summer, during a hot day. I was attending an outdoor performance my sister took part in. I remember, sitting by myself on the sidewalk, making ladybug traps out of sticks and rocks I had collected nearby. You and a few other children came over to see what I was doing. I was very overwhelmed by the attention, but shyly explained what I was making. The other children, especially the girls, were grossed out and went to go find something else to do. But you stayed behind and asked if you could make one with me. I was surprised! Never had anyone asked to stay and play with me, not anyone. I said yes. You smiled, sat right down beside me and asked what you could do. Together we had built the most elaborate ladybug traps our childish minds could comprehend. I felt weightless when you exclaimed what an amazing job we had done on it.

Later that day when lunch rolled around, you came over with a friend, sat down on my blanket I had brought and ate lunch with me. Again I was shocked! I always ate alone; I had never had someone to share a meal with before. You started talking about Power Rangers and how they were your favorite Heroes. I quietly talked about my Barbie collection, and showed you a few of my dolls I had brought. When I did, you got this gleam in your big eyes, and suddenly started talking about how you were going to draw a picture of your Power Rangers and my Barbie dolls, and enter it in an art show. At that time I didn’t know what I felt in my heart, but I felt so happy. You asked if I was going to go see it if it got put in the art show. I told you I wasn’t sure, but I would defiantly try. You were so happy, and I knew right then I had actually made a friend, a real friend.


Few years went by.


I had only seen you once or twice at events, but we were very busy with our projects to really talk. I was a little sad and lonely. I still hadn’t made very many friends at this point. I only remember one girl I talked to. She was in a different club, but came to almost every show. She and I would play together, but I just didn’t feel as happy when you were around.


You disappeared.


I didn’t see you again for a while after. I honestly had almost forgotten about you by then. I had some friends by now, and was more involved in my projects. But there was this nagging feeling that something was missing. Something wasn’t right. I ignored it, thinking it would go away. When I turned 14, I was very interested in a guy in the program. I knew it wouldn’t work out though; I was mid-puberty and a mess. Still I insisted. And lo and behold I was shot down. Now, to a normal girl, that would have been a let down and a little confidence crushing. But at the time, it felt like I was slapped.

Looking back on it now, I laugh and think to myself, ‘Man, I was really silly thinking I could ask him out’. But it crushed my confidence a little.


Then you came back.


I was suddenly so overwhelmed with feelings I though I never had when I saw your big eyes again. I was so tempted to confess right then and there, but my confidence was still too crushed and I chickened out. I kept seeing you almost all the time now, and each time I did, it felt like someone stabbed me in the chest. And I knew.


I’m not good enough for you.


I still don’t have many real friends. I prefer to hide behind my alter ego online. I immerse myself in my Fandoms and ignore most of the real world. I’m no longer a dreamer I once though I could be. I’ll never be the women I aspired to be.

So much has happened since that hot summer day in Triangle Park.

So now, all I can do is write this sad love letter, in hopes you’ll never read it.

But if you do, dearest Nick, know that you still have a place in my heart.

I wish you the best of luck, and many wonderful years to come in your life.

In regards of unrequited love,



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