I remember when I read you my poetry. My childish, silly, rhyming poetry, that I wrote for you, but would never admit it to your face. I wrote them on the back pages of my notebook. During Chemistry class. While looking out the window. And I didn’t even care that I would have to take remedial classes because I’m not paying attention to the lessons. And I didn’t care that you didn’t know that the words were all for you. As long as you heard them, as long as you knew that people could feel what I felt.
We would talk to each other on the phone every night; forgetting homework, forgetting exams, forgetting everything but ourselves and how we felt that day. I miss the telephone.
I miss my old books. What happened to the Young Adult section in the bookstore? Filled with Harry Potter/Twilight-wannabe books. Nothing like Sweet Valley. Nothing like that obscure series Love Stories, or the older version of that, Sweet Dreams. Don’t high school students fall in love anymore? And I mean, the old-fashioned kind of love, where the girl and the guy are partners for a school project and have to take care of an egg as if it was their baby.
I remember writing a poem while sitting beside the river. With only the full moon as my light. It was during the class camping trip. You stood behind me in line and put your hand on my shoulder, asking if I was too tired from all the activities and if I wanted to rest. That was quite thoughtful of you.
We had a lot of movie moments, didn’t we? My favorite being the one where I helped you give a rose to the girl you liked and I watched you from afar, feeling sick to my stomach about how I could do that to myself. That was the reason, too, why I never told you that the poems were for you.
Things are different now. You’re far away, and in a relationship with someone I’ve never even met. I don’t know if you still remember me. Maybe you do, vaguely, but I’m quite sure that you don’t remember anymore, how you used to make me laugh nonstop. How, whenever either of us felt sad, one phone call to the other could make everything seem better.
I don’t think I really loved you. I think, we were just really really good friends. But because it was high school, and prom night, and everyone was falling in love, and we looked at each other under the stars, and you had that awesome smile… It was an understandable mistake.