buttercup | personal

bored

green apple,

i don't think I'll end up writing this letter in all caps this time. maybe. we'll see. i'm not sure why the last one was in captials anyway. it just felt like the right formatting for how i was feeling.

(those feelings didn't fade away, just so you know. they've only gotten stronger while feeding on parts of my heart and nestling further into the front part of my brain. i need to stop thinking about you and i need to stop feeling this and i need to stop)

i really want to hate you.

i also kinda wanna talk to you and be your best friend and send you really great memes but idk if you would be willing to be seen with someone younger than you.

so this is my way of coping.

writing you letters that you will never see.

i hope you won't see them at least.

***

i wish i could draw well.

i've probably said that a hundred times before on this journal but this is one of the moments where it feels most relevant.

i think that if i could properly sketch a portrait, i might be able to draw you out of my mind.

words are only effective six out of ten times, when its all of what i'm feeling that matters.

but lately, that hasn't been what has mattered.

the only thing breaking the surface of my mind is your face and your hands when you brush the hair off of your forehead and your mouth and your eyes and every damn thing about you. it isn't just in my thoughts as sentences and paragraphs ranting about you. it is a jumble of colors and paintings and pictures that i want to draw and then present to the universe so they can see just how beautiful you really are. a drawing wouldn't be able to do you justice though.

i suppose nothing will suffice.

it might be for the best, though, that i'm not gifted in that way. i'm afraid that it would easily get to the point that every time i lifted a pencil the graphite would immediately begin to trace the curve of your jaw or the shape of your eyes.

you really do have beautiful eyes, apple. i thought that they were dark brown at first for some reason, but i couldn't have been more wrong. one day i actually looked at them and realized that they were this incredibly complex slate blue. they are piercing and real and cut through the thick vines shielding my heart and the very core of my being. they would be almost unbelievable on any other person, but for some reason, they work on you.

you are a watercolor painting of a lake, personified.

you are magic.

and it isn't fair.

***

i'm gonna talk about your eyes again for a second because there's one other thing that i forgot to mention.

whenever you look at me, it's difficult to describe, but i feel like you can see right through me.

you can feel what i am feeling and listen to all of my thoughts and sometimes i think that you've figured it out.

i'm starting to think that it isn't the fault of you being telepathic or something like that that you can hear what i'm saying inside of my head.

i think that i'm just obvious. i'm bashful around you and mute and i can't keep eye contact because of your damn eyes.

you really need to learn how to keep them under control (lolol thats what she said).

back on track, right.

if you can read my mind, that would really fucking suck, but please don't be scared. i know it's overwhelming but just know that it's probably more overwhelming for me than it is for you.

i have so much more to say but it isn't ready yet to exit from my mind yet or into the thoughts of others.

just know that i really wanted to hold your hand when you walked with me.

but i didn't.

because i can't. and i will never be able to. unless we meet again when we're older. but for now, i will keep my hand balled in a fist by my side and i will continue to stay silent around you so i don't say anything that i haven't agreed to internally just yet.

thanks,
paige.

(SIDE NOTE: its really fucking weird having people i know irl reading this. like this shit is just kinda personal its like they can literally read my fucking thoughts and to be honest i forgot that they were reading it and i don't know man. like i'm fine with them reading it, i just feel like they think i'm weird for this. and by "this" i mean all of the emotional vomit i just let out on a virtual paper every week. i dont know. anyways, hello irl friends, u guys are cool i love you please don't think i'm weird for writing this gross mushy stuff uwu)