A Love Letter

     This is a love letter that I wrote for my love on Valentine's day. As a high shool couple, who knows how long we are going to last...but I'm going to make sure that he is loved and heard through all the world's extraneous noise! Now, on to convincing my asian parents to let me formally date him...

     I’m writing this the day of the 2/11 physics scare. I can’t see shit and my eyes are puffy and I feel like hurling, but every thought of you just makes me feel so much better. If we break up by the day this will get to you, I will be sad, but know that you are the only one I that I will ever love, ever. I swear on it. What you are about to read in this culmination of my thoughts is going to be from the heart (and might just be a little scary and descriptive), but it’s all real. I solemnly swear that none of this is a lie. And be sure to read this letter in one of the tones of all time.

Hello, ▉▉! It seems like it’s the first Valentine’s day we get to spend together. The history of valentines day is just dumb—who gives two shits if some Roman priest married people?—but it’s become such a nice tradition that we just call it Valentine’s day for no reason. My guy Columbus sailed so long and quite almost died and his celebratory day was revoked from him, but a random priest married people and he got an international holiday ¹ in his name. Doesn’t seem fair, doesn’t it? But the memories still last, so that’s fire.

I really don’t remember the day I met you. I quite literally gained consciousness last year. I quite vaguely remember hearing your name in junior high and seeing you in the hallways of the asylum-arse hallway where the smart-alecks roam. Oh, yes. It was at math club. You were one of the Caucasians that were very studious at that time, and I was a random idiot that did nothing and wanted nothing in life. ² As inconspicuous as you were years ago, going into high school changed the game.

Last year, I just stayed in random teacher’s rooms. I was a stupid freshman last year—my grades were horrible, my rank sucked, and I quite literally had a number of friends that I could count on a single hand—and I think how I spent my time reflected that. Wait, I’m not sure if this was last year or not; my memory is literally deteriorating. Or maybe I need sleep. Visible shrug. But that was when I came across a table where good old Shaochen Liu was sitting. There you were.

Now is the time to point out that I don’t have a personality. My personality is a conglomerate (or agglomerate?) of the people-who-I’ve-interacted-with’s personalities. ³ It’s evident—when I meet you in the mornings, I’m docile; when I get to my chaotic friends, I’m equally as chaotic. Lmao. (said [sounded out] with a straight face, like ɫʌmoʊ) If you are conflicted, I’m sorry. I have so many problems. Lmao.

You were, to me, sitting there with your legs on the seat and staring intently at the switch, a regular human being. I had nothing against you, but I realized that you were somebody that I’d like getting to know better. Like friends-and-connections-wise. ⁴  When I started talking to you, though, I realized that you didn’t give three shits about what everyone else thought about you (what I’ve heard from people. Don’t worry—nothing bad) and that you have a sense of humor akin to the likes of mine. ⁵ I started to maybe-kinda-ish like you from that point. You were someone that I didn’t feel tension next to. ⁶

That was when I started to acknowledge my like(?) towards you. You would just somehow appear so much better as I went along with school. ⁷ I would go on to tell a few of my close friends about you (sorry) and they urged me on. Thanks guys. Y’all are invited. Through a series of fortunate events, I end up here today, with you. I know that this is fuckinh high school and I’d have to battle through so much fucking odds of life to keep it this way, but there’s no use in dwelling on what could happen. The time is now.

Why do I like you, you may or may not ask? Well, I like you because you are nice. I like you because you are kind. I like you because you are so cool. ⁸ I like you for many reasons. And you’re also tall and smart. Fuck.

I get nervous around you. Really, really nervous. Like palm-sweating, vein-pounding-in-my-head-nervous. ⁹ It’s why I dread going to the Spanish hallway in the mornings, but in the end, it quite literally becomes the reason I go to school every day instead of sleeping in. It’s one of the only times I get to spend time with my cutie and Nneka, and I love it so much because the rest of my day is so nice. Yes, y’all make up my day. It actually gives me so much dopamine. Yes, I do actually get so sad when you’re not there.

I’m really aware that I don’t show a lot in my face at school. I remember this girl called Danielle tell me that I chronically look mad, which isn’t false, but I don’t want it to be a hindrance toward anything. I just want to get this day over with, to just relax and sleep. I’m still working on my smile and how my eyebrows tilt too. It isn’t bad, but it could be so much better. I digress, though. This was supposed to be a love letter.

Alright, on to the sloppy glazing!! Here is an excerpt from a short story I was going to write for NEHS:

There’s a guy that I really like. His face is neither severe nor ornate—his expressions are somewhere in the middle where every existent perfection meets at a point. His eyes are bright and brown, eager and restful, alert and tranquil, all at the same time, and every strand of his hair is chiseled like he was ameliorated from Michaelangelo’s marbled sculptures, decades of skill conveyed in one dimension that combine to form a masterpiece of the eons. Every movement of the pick and the hammer on the white hard marble held feeling, heart, and soul, conveying masterpiece after masterpiece that could never be replicated on anyone else.

His eyes are naturally big and downturned, with a gentle glow emanating from his shiny brown eyes, his lashes a curling perfection against the frame of his head. His nose is shapely and fitting--neither Greek, Roman, American Indian, Semitic, Mongolian, or Negro—but what can be called an absolute masterpiece right on Earth. His existence transcends the very fabrics of feeling, wiping any biases off the face of the planet when he flashes me a gentle, welcoming smile. His eyes smiled in line with the creases of his mouth, showing his pretty teeth to the world that begged for mercy at his sight.

His stature is tall, not lanky nor husky, but huggable and perfect in which the angle his eyes see me in makes the LEDs dance and shine with bright sparkles that somehow manage to appear in the periphery of my vision. Heat and warmth rush into my cheeks when we walk side by side in the bustling hallways of every day. In this state, all my heard turns wholly to him, eating the vision up with greed and sorrow, unwilling for him to go to class but also unwilling (by my ego) to reach for his hand and walk.

Nevermind, fuck, that was the whole thing. Um. How awkward. ¹⁰

Do you know the saying that… Nevermind, I forgot it already. I’ll update this script if I remember it. It’s where it’s like… you don’t know that THE FUCK you were doing with your life before you met someone? Yeah, that someone was you. I don’t know what I even felt about romance before I met you. It’s a life-changer, a 360.

Walking into the Spanish hallway in the morning, I half-expect you not to be there. If you are, I reach into my nonexistent pockets to somehow look preoccupied, and if you aren’t, I’ll sulk and talk to Nneka. They’re so amazing I don’t even know how to say it. Anyways. When you do come, you have the signature walking style that I can only attribute to years of fucking your spine up ¹¹ and a gleam in your eye from the migraine-causing rectangles that they string to the cardboard spray-painted ceiling.

When I hug you, you’re so warm. Like you’re a heater. It’s so comfortable. I can’t iterate that more. I can only hope that it feels the same to you ¹²

Anyways, when I’m with you, everything feels a-ok. You are literally the highlight of my days, and I hesitate so much to avoid you and I feel so empty when you’re gone. I can’t count the times I have wanted your hug with me, but I digress also. This letter is turning into… I don’t know what it’s turning into.

I love you. And I miss you to the moon and back, to the sun and back again. Hell, I miss you from Andromeda and Betelgeuse to the extents of the observable universe and then back again. Twice. Thrice. 53 times. My feelings can be as little as a chemical reaction in my head, to as big as my perception of the whole world. ¹³ I don’t give two shits on what you think of me ¹⁴, so if possible, I’ll keep on loving you.

Please don’t stop being amazing. I would hate to see you turn into one of those globble glorps. And I love you. How many times have I said that I love you? There’s another one. Cool. This is turning into a literary essay. Should I turn it into the teacher? Nevermind, they can’t hate me more lmao! Love you. ¹⁵

Heidy

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[1] AND sainthood? Really? The catholics are onto something.

[2] Didn’t change one bit. Okay, maybe changed a little. Maybe a lot.

[3] There’s some funny lore to this, but despite this being my full on midnight rant, I don’t want it to take up half a page. Sorry.

[4] You seemed smart and cool. I was one of those GPA fuckers back then. I hate myself for that, and I can see myself devolving TO that again. Lord help me. Sorry.

[5] I was also a Reddit-scrolling troglodyte. Didn’t change one bit.

[6] That is a lie.

[7] Damn. When did he get so handsome? I’m quite literally not kidding, this is a cliché but its real asf. Like I’d look at you and just…*gleam*!

[8] And quite handsome too.

[9] I’ll say it again—you’re that adorable!!

[10] Why does it sound so fucking cheesy? It’s the third time I’ve read it and I’ve decided not to redact anything.

[11] But it’s so damn cute like why am I so attracted to the fucking limp

[12] But im a fucking corpse past rigor mortis so im as cold as Kendrick’s lyrics to his song that I forgot the name of lmoa

[13] Cogito, ergo sum. I think therefore I am.

[14] Lies, lies! All of them!

[15] This letter has so many typos and inconsistencies. I apologize. Please forgive me.