Once upon a time there was this girl who was extremely closed off to the world due to unforeseen circumstances that plagued her fifteenth year. She thought herself ugly and unworthy of anyone’s time. She felt as though everyone left her to deal with things alone and cemented that thought once her best friend died at sixteen. All in all, she hated herself.
It took a year, but slowly, she came out of her shell, meeting new people and starting a new job. She talked to people as though nothing were wrong and with time, nothing was wrong. For once, she didn’t feel ugly. She didn’t feel unworthy. She didn’t feel disliked. She didn’t feel alone.
Just when she felt as though she had things under control and was at peace with herself, she met someone. Someone who didn’t know anything about her past and befriended her anyway. Someone who listened to her talk and smiled when she did. Someone who understood her. It was something she had never felt before.
He played with her mind, as she did with his and their relationship, or lack thereof, was tumultuous. Back and forth, back and forth for almost two years, until one day she got sick of it. She wrote a letter, declaring her anger, annoyed with his actions toward her. And she said she didn’t want to be his friend anymore. This scared him, he ran back to her, pleading and assuring that he didn’t know what he was thinking. He loved her, he declared. She believed him. And all was good. For a month. Then the back and forth actions began to happen again. And she became just as confused as before, if not more.
One more chance, she thought. And she wrote him one more letter. This time, stating her feelings and desire to be with him. Feeling confident, she gave it to him once he left for a short trip.