I don't think I am ever going to grow the balls to send you this letter. I am afraid that if I profess my feelings to you that I will be ridiculed or teased by you and your friends. I know most people here think I'm a promiscuous person, but seriously, they have only known me for eight months. All these people know is that I have had a few crushes, but they turned all of them into sexual encounters. Truthfully, I have not had many, and maybe there's a reason for that. But, does anyone here have enough guts to ask me why? I did not think so. There is a superficial layer that everyone sees, including you. This layer is my skin, my clothes, my music, my voice, and my acting. Did you know that I've never had this layer before? Nope, this year I became a new person on the outside, but I'm the same old me inside. The me that you will never know.

I catch you looking at me all the time, when I do, you end up pretending like you weren't. Give me a break! I know that you look at me, you've been doing it since the beginning of the year. So, why don't you take a minute and tell me what you're looking for? I know exactly what I'm looking for when I look at you, a sign. A sign that you feel the same way I do. A sign that you feel a weird pull between us. We have only talked a few times, about absolutely nothing, but, I feel like I know you. I know that I don't. I know that you don't know me either, so I guess, what I want is a chance. Really if you gave me two or three hours of your time to get to know me, then I swear you would understand, and maybe even like me.

Well, I know that is not going to happen. How do I know? Because I am never going to ask for it. I won't even give you the poem I wrote about you. It's funny that you said you would marry a girl if she wrote you a poem, because I wrote that thing three weeks before you said that. Too bad we're leaving in a week, because we would have made a cute couple.

Love,