A Letter To The Crush I’ll Never Admit To

Dear One,

In upper secondary literature, we studied the novel The Chrysalids. The uncle asked his nephew “What do you think it is that makes a man?” The nephew defined it in a man’s physical attributes but the uncle cut him off. He said, “No, what makes man man is mind…” I lust not after physical beauty (it helps that I am not a beautiful woman myself), but I greatly value one’s mind. And it pains me to admit that I can’t figure yours out. Having no clue what’s in your head keeps me on my toes and I spend every waking minute second-guessing your thoughts. You drive me wild, anxious and occasionally crazy. Is it possible to love someone I cannot claim to know?

Yet there is this strange feeling I cannot describe. The desire to keep you near and the irrational urge for exclusivity to our friendship. Last night I had a pretty awful nightmare, waking up trembling cold and scared. I reached for my phone in the darkness; I wanted to call you. Of all my friends, your comfort was the one I seek the most. That was when I knew I was in deep trouble. It took me a great deal of determination to put my phone away and even more courage to confront the fact that yes, I do want you. 

I think I have been fair to you. We’ve been texting a lot recently. You text me when you are bored and want somebody or anybody to entertain you. I do my best. I have done a decent job, haven’t I? It does hurt my pride to wait by the phone for the rare instances that I should cross your mind; you do not know how very much I despise myself for taking delight in such fleeting moments.

In my pathetic defense is a quote I like from Jane Austen’s novel Northanger Abbey, “Where the heart is really attached, I know very well how little one can be pleased with the attention of any body else.” 

Despite it all, at the end of day, when I suppress my wishful thinking, I know one thing: You do not love me. These shameful feelings of mine, I willfully wish it a premature death, let it not be spoken of anymore, and it shall never see the light. 

With love, 
K. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

More From Thought Catalog