I always thought that as long as I wasn't sad that I was happy. But after you kissed me last Saturday, I realized that there is a difference between being not sad and happy. All of those years when we weren't a part of each other's lives, I was just not sad. I missed you so incredibly much. Yes, I dated other boys but none of them compared to you.
But then you came over and we talked about everything and you finally said, after all of this time, that you had loved me and that I had broken your heart. With my head on your chest, I admitted that I had loved you too for as long as I could remember. It was all so perfect until you said, I can't do this. It was all so perfect until I remembered Kim, your girlfriend.
And we fought at the top of my driveway and I cried.
Leave, go on, I know you want to.
You said, come on Whit, just talk to me. Please.
You don't even care about me.
How can you say that?
Just fucking go.
Whit, please. Don't do this.
I have to.
Whit.
I'll see you at school and don't worry I won't tell anyone.
And the stupidest part of this whole story is that I still love you. I always have. I can't help it. If I could back in time, I would tell you how I felt and I wouldn't be afraid. I wouldn't run away. I'm tired of the regret. So I'm going to tell you how I feel this time and you're going to have to make a choice and maybe you won't pick me. But at least this time around, I'll know where I'll stand.
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