Dearest April,
We were almost a thing. I think about it everyday.
It was 3 weeks into the school year when I first saw your eyes. They’re unfortunately still your best feature, and every time I close my eyes when I’m trying to study Business while you’re standing behind me, I see them clear as day.
Staring back at me. Staring at me across the classroom while I was eating cake with my friends on Valentine’s Day. We looked away, then looked at each other again. And then away again. I don’t know if you still stare at me when I’m not looking. I don’t think you do anymore.
I miss our long conversations about anything and everything, and I’m sorry I ever got annoyed at your 20 minute voice notes because I’d to anything to have a 2 minute voice note again. I wish I could talk to you about Formula 1 again, and clown you when Lewis messes up. I even added him into my English Essay. But don’t get me wrong - I’ll never support Lewis.
My friends don’t know that I’m not over you. They probably all suspect it but I feel like I just can’t tell anyone, because I wanted you gone so bad. I’m sorry I’m so disorganised.
They tell me I keep speaking about how I would’ve brought you to Pantry (a restaurant I love) with me 2 weeks ago. I would’ve. You would’ve met my parents, and my sister. You would meet the people I care about the most. I hope they would’ve liked you.
I still check your messages everyday, and think about messaging you, and stop because you still haven’t responded from my message on the 27th of April. I knew we were gone when the date turned from “Monday” to 27/04/26.
I’m counting the days. We’re on day 30 since you got with her. It’s driving me crazy. It’s wrong. Who cares this much? Why do I care so much?
I write in my diary everyday feeling like I fucked up. That I turned cold because for the first time in my whole life - someone loved me back too. I can’t explain how I feel like I’m trapped in a box.
I feel so utterly stuck here. That you were the single person who reciprocated. I’ve loved a lot of boys before, none of them liked me back. It feels like I keep standing up to get shot down, and this time, I shot myself in the heart.
But I wanted this, didn’t I? Every time I think about the diary entries from March late at night - the ones where I felt so annoyed at you. That I wished you’d just leave me alone.
Maybe I wasn’t speaking, but fear was. Fear took the wheel because when the overwhelming prospect of you becoming mine was slowly becoming more sure everyday, I didn’t know what to do - I don’t even know how to love.
I fear you never cared. You’d been friends with her long enough before you got with her. You used to send me messages, and then you just stopped. Didn’t even reply.
Did people whisper in your ear about me? Tell you about how I’m insane? Tell you how I’m nothing but problems? Did they say something mean?
Did you decide she was better? Of course I’d never measure up.
Because who dates a girl like me?