Just Another Face

I don't know how to begin this. Not with Dear, not with Hello, we have moved pass that. You cannot start a letter with Dear, its too formal, you are not breaking someones heart, you are not sending them a Dear John letter, you are smiply "gettting together" with them. You are having a cup of coffee with them. You think you can hear their voice when you are reading the letter out loud. But when I wrote this letter to you it wasnt my voice that was saying the words, it was mearly helping my heart along the , rather a support.

I do not have many questions for you, nor do I wish to know the answers to my questions. I want to spill my heart out for you. Its my writing that does the talking. I am too much of a chicken to say something to you, something that isnt funny or that isnt making fun of someone, or that isnt stupid, or even making fun of you. I laugh at your jokes, even when they arent funny, and i laugh when you make fun of someone. Maybe you notice me, maybe you dont. So I spill my heart out on paper, just to let you know how I truly feel.

For some odd reason I am drawn to you. I feel connected to you in an awkward sort of way. I cant control it. Its a feeling that I have. I am not going to say sorry, because that would be like telling you that I cant be real. But real is what this is, a feeling, a slight emotion. But I am crushed, crushed by the fact that ill never be in that picture, the picture of your future. Ill just be another memory, or worse just another face in our senior yearbook.