Missed Opportunity

     


 You are going to have to bear with me for the next couple hundred words or so. I don’t really know where to begin. I don’t even know if it is worth writing this letter. Will it shock you? Will it hurt you? Offend you? In the perfect scenario, I want this to change you. I want you to realize who I am, appreciate me for what I do for you, that I’m always there for you, regardless of if I know it just hurts me in the long run. I’m not asking for the romantic, running towards me, arms open, smile on your face, cupid reflecting in your eyes. No, I want you to learn, I want a reaction from you, something, anything. I’m tired of hugs that dust my shoulders rather than radiate warmth to my core. I can feel the apprehension you have every time you come close to me, the hesitation in touch. A simple handshake, a high five, shoulders bumping when we walk in a crowd. All these things send shivers up your spine. Why you have these feelings and reactions, I don’t know. Is it that you like me? Is there a spark of hope that I can thrive off of somewhere deep down inside of you? Or is it a false alarm? I don’t want to keep wandering down this path, unsure where it will lead me or when I will stumble out of the forest. I’ve been there for you. Held your hair back when you were sick, throwing a night’s worth of poor decisions down the drain. I’ve been the shoulder you’ve cried on when you realized the man you were with was not who he appeared to be or who you thought he was. I’ve walked you through the tough times, tried to keep your head held high. Maybe you’ve realized I’ve been there, with you every step of the way, but it feels as if you don’t even notice me. That I’m just like your shadow, with you everywhere you go, but you don’t even realize that I’m there. I don’t think you’re dumb. I really think you don’t understand the full effect of what you are doing to me. I’ve thought about this for so long before. I would bet, if there were a way to clone myself, right now, this instant, and reintroduce this new “me” to you, you’d have feelings for him, fall for him. Possibly even love him. But, when you look at me, the real me, you look right through me. I don’t know what you want me to do. I’m stuck, at the end of my rope. I don’t know if you’ll ever actually read this. I don’t know if I’ll ever send it to you. After I mark the last period on this paper, I will have hopefully buried my feelings for you. Sealed them away with this letter. I don’t know what else to do, or how else to say it.