Dear Kip

I'm writing this letter to you because words help me feel better. Words allow me to get what's on my heart in the open without having to speak, without having to see your reaction. I couldn't say this stuff to your face, as much as I want to.

I have a confession to make, first of all. Do you remember that weekend when we got back from the beach? Do you remember how we were lying in my bed and you kissed me? It changed my life. Nothing exciting like that had ever happened before, and then you came along and kissed me. I should confess something else. The only reason that I didn't kiss you back was because I had my retainer in. If I hadn't, I would have kissed you back, if only for a second. Imagine if I had. Would things be different between us now? 

I'm not the sort of person who cries over a guy. It's not what I do. I usually hate girls who do it. I'd like to think I'm stronger than that, not as pathetic as that. So why did I spend all day Sunday crying over you? What makes you so special? Don't call it love, because I wasn't quite stupid enough to have fallen in love with you. Had you given me the chance had we ever really been together, I think I would have fallen for you, because when we were together-but-not-together, you were wonderful. When we were in one of our 'let's not do anything' stages, you could actually be quite mean. I wonder if it's because you were pretending that we'd never done anything, or whether you truly felt like being mean. Needless to say, I enjoyed nice Kip a lot more than mean Kip.

I wonder why you agreed for us just to do the physical stuff. Don't say that you tried to stop it, because last time I checked, suggesting that you put a condom on so we don't have to stop doesn't exactly enforce your wanting to stop, nor does telling me that what I did with my mouth felt good. Did you imagine it was your ex when I went down on you? When the fire alarm went off, did you get a fright because you realized it was me and not her? Come to think of it, did you ever find me attractive? Did you care for me? Did you look forward to our nightly meetings as much as I did, or did you just enjoy the fact that I was a girl willing to give you pleasure? Your pleasure gave me pleasure, and although I know you were disappointed that you couldn't get me there, at the time I didn't care. I care now because I'm mad that I got you off and it ended before I could teach you to get me off, which I know you would have done eventually.

I wanted you to like me. I wanted you to realise that your girlfriend was young, stupid, and no where near as awesome as I am. I'll be honest to say that I still hope it's not too late, that you'll realise this and come running up the stairs and declare your devotion to me. I know it's not going to happen, but I can't help it. We always hold onto something. When we care for someone so much, there's always going to be a small part of us that cares for them in the wrong way.

Six.