Dear Dawson

Dear Dawson-4

May 10.

Dear Dawson, I stared at you from across the classroom today. You were laughing your melodic laugh, but the noise didn't make me feel like it used to. The way your eyes twinkled, although still beautiful, made me sad.

In a way, it made me feel terrible, because I wasn't the one making you laugh anymore. It was her.

I had no energy to feel mad at either of you anymore, so I tried to feel nothing at all. It was hard, though, when everything around me seemed to be falling apart. Mum kept trying to turn me into her perfect daughter, but I wasn't cooperating. I wanted to just be who I was and not feel like I was disappointing her, but that wasn't an option when it came to my mother. She had a way of making me feel terrible about myself, and eventually, I found myself sort of shutting down.

It was like I wasn't really living, just watching my life before my eyes as it happened. I'm tired of feeling this way. Why can't I just be normal?

I tried to talk to you today.

"H-hey Dawson," i greeted once I walked over to your table and you and Amanda turned to me. Your eyes immediately caught my attention again- they're still just as beautiful to me.

I know that I'll never forget those silver orbs. They will stay locked deep in my memory for the rest of my life, but I don't mind. They're absolutely beautiful. Who wouldn't want them permanently printed in their memory?

"Oh, hey Kindley," you greeted with your familiar, small smile that always seemed to take my breath away, "how are you?" I softly smiled back at you, my heart jumping each time you smiled. That was another beautiful thing about you, your smile.

Your perfectly white teeth would show clearly. The corners of your mouth would progressively move upward until your face was splitting with an amazingly contagious smile, making your entire face seem just a little happier, and I wouldn't be able to stop myself from following right behind your footsteps. You always found a way to make me happy even when everything was crumbling apart beneath my finger tips pathetically. That was one of my favorite things you were able to do.

"Uh, I am fine," I lied to you that, automatically feeling guilty about it, "what about you?" You smiled again before replying.

"I'm great," you said with your all-too familiar smile, and my heart broke a little. I know this is incredibly selfish, but I can't help feeling a little sad that you're "great" without me. I'm not great, so why are you?

Maybe you didn't even love me as a friend like I thought. Maybe you faked it all, maybe you felt bad for me and that's why we became friends in the first place. Was that all just fake, Dawson, or am I overthinking like I always do?

"Oh," I replied, "th-that's good." You nodded slightly with another smile, making my heart involuntary jump in me a little more, before the awkward silence kicked in. Things definitely weren't like they used to be, and I could only blame it on her. She made things weird between us. Everything was fine before she came along.

"Yeah, well, um, I guess I'll see you around, Dawson."

Then, I walked away to my first period, and you didn't speak to me for the rest of the day.

What happened to "best friends for our lifetime," Dawson?

From,
Kindley.