The Engine Driver

I wrote this to a dear friend earlier this week.

"I'm not a very eloquent person, and you know that. My passion for words exists only within the realm of the text book, not the free-flowing world of verbal communication. So too, you also know that I'm the last one you'd expect reveal the happenings of a psyche and reveal true emotion.

That's why I spent the day being a social recluse, eschewing conversation and encompassing myself in the dank, deep recesses of my mind formulating some sort of end-all-be-all manifesto of my feelings. To pen the severe self-destruction of my mind, my heart and my self-esteem. To show my true colors as an asshole with ulterior motives. All of which is fueled by stimuli revolving around you.

For you see, I hold the most embarrassingly self-perpetuating, overbearing and onerous affection for you. I like you _a lot_.

And it makes me feel stupid. Very, very stupid. Stupid for falling for my bestfriend. Stupid for never telling anyone. Stupid for denying it all the time. Stupid for being obsequious to someone that will never return my feelings.

I feel so dumb, following you everywhere, attempting to know you inside and out. Deep down I know this will never be requited. But I stay steadfast because it keeps me sane, gives me some form of self-worth, but most of all because it makes me happy. It's as if I'm tending to a wretched sapling that will never bear fruit, and whose consistency is but of mere glass.

It throws me into mood swings. It keeps me awake at night. It seeps into my lonely treks back and forth from school and from hangout to hangout, and anytime where I have nothing at my disposal to ignore and drown it out.

All of this is only amplified when I get a dose of reality: you and your ex (or boyfriend? or friend? I honestly don't know...), xxxxx, that xxxxx and all of your other potential suitors. I get so up-in-arms and inundated with an overwhelming sense of inane jealousy. I look at myself and wonder why I, a fat and socially inept asshole, had fallen into this trap, and why I was doing nothing to get out of it. I feel so ashamed, to hold this in. It makes me feel so inadequate. I pity myself because it. I have bouts of melancholy and dejection all too frequently because of it.

And for what? Absolutely nothing. And even with that statement and this message taken into consideration, I don't know what will become of me, you or even us. I don't even know how you'll react to this. Will this solve any of my aforementioned problems? No. But I just felt I needed to tell you. I couldn't hold it in any longer, not any more. You did ask what I was thinking about, when I had suddenly went silent earlier today, right? Well, now you know.

I'm not asking for your sympathy or your affection. All I ask is that you can still hold your trust in me and still look to me as your friend, for as the great Charlie Brown once said,

'Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.'

-Matt"

I kinda felt it should be here.






It doesn't feel the same anymore.