Uncomfortable Silence

By: Anonymous

To the blue eyes that haunt my dreams:
I hate you.  More than anything, I hate you.
I hate your laugh that lingers in my head hours after I hear it.  I hate your contagious, infectious, criminal smile that no one should ever have to bear witness to.  The phrase “If looks could kill” gains a new meaning whenever you glance over at me – it just about kills me every time, and I hate that too.  But more than anything, of which is probably the source of my abhorration, I hate the feeling you give me.
It’s repugnant.  The fact that I fell for the typical pretty boy consisting of nothing less than blue eyes, blond hair, pearly white teeth, and a goody two-shoes personality…how could I ever be so naïve?  I hate myself for that.
I guess what I’m saying is, by popular view of the horrendous occurrence and typicality that is this letter, the feeling my whole being is screaming of is love. Ironically enough, seeing as how the entire beginning of this letter was spent describing my detest for you, I can’t help but believe it’s true.

If I could ever gather up enough courage to tell you of my hatred – or love – for you, I’d only hope you would express to me that you felt the same way. The love or the despisement – I’ll take either extreme. I can only imagine how wretched I’d feel if your emotions were placed somewhere in the in-between. You’re already making me bleed with every text I send that you disregard and every smile I offer that you don’t take.

It’s almost as if you’re purposefully doing this to me. As if you know what every laugh and flicker of a touch does.

When will I ever make my escape from this whirlwind of colorful emotions along with the fantastic holes they leave that are so indistinguishable from the gaps they fill? At the same time that I hope that time will come soon, I also hope I will be stuck with these feelings forever, because the source of these feelings is you.

I can’t see myself ever confessing any of this to you, but I truly do hope you realize that you perceive whatever you think of me to be similar to what I’ve made clear I think of you. If you don’t, I pray you never make it known to me.

-A not-so-happily desperate admirer


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