My dearest delinquent;

Much to my dismay, I miss you. I miss your mischievous dark eyes and the way that they would linger on mine. I miss your exaggerated expressions and your imperfect smile. I miss your broad hands and how dainty they made mine feel. I miss your long mahogany colored hair and how you would run your fingers through the strands, just like I do. I miss your dirty, mismatched apparel and your overconfident swagger . I miss the way you greeted me every time I entered the room. I miss the way that you would recite my name. I miss the way you would playfully tease and taunt me. I miss how you would tell me my eyes were beautiful. I miss how you threatened to pulverize anyone who even considered making fun of me. I miss the conversations we had and the conversations that we will never have. But most of all, I miss the thought of you and me.

I am well aware that you are forgetting about me. It’s okay, I will get over it eventually. Probably not, but I enjoy lying to myself. I hate to admit that we are perfect for each other, but it is the truth. I have been told the truth hurts, doesn’t it? I can usually handle the truth, but I just can not handle losing you. You can not cope with the truth either, because that Mohawk was ugly and dying it blue did not make it look more attractive.

I can not help but wonder what you saw in me. What were you thinking when your eyes first gazed upon me that summer day during school? I can so easily recall that afternoon because it plays endless in my mind. Did you sit at your wooden desk brainstorming ways to get my attention? Was a paper ball really the best tactic you could come up with? I remember the way you chuckled when I screamed at the sudden projectile flying towards me. Did you find my pathetic attempt to throw it back at you amusing? My horrible aim was a reoccurring theme, remember when I tried to spit that gum in your hair? And it landed about four feet shy of your head? Or the time I tried to nail you with a bottle cap after you deliberately hit me with it? I do.

I know your sympathy is something that I can never obtain, but I wish you could comprehend what you are doing to me. Don’t you notice how my world shatters every time you pass me in the hall and avoid my eye contact? Can’t you see how I subtly attempt to catch your attention every time I see you? Isn’t is obvious how my heart begins to crack each time I see you talking to someone that is not me? Laughing at someone that is not me? Loving someone that is not me?

Today was the day that you stopped loving me. And today was the day that I realized I will never stop loving you.

Forever yours,
Your former partner in crime