Hello, Nobody Speaking
Dear Sora,
To begin with, I've almost always hated you.
I've been at this school since kindergarten – just as long as you have. Do you have any idea how long that is? By the time we graduate in June, it'll be thirteen years. Time flies, right? But in this time frame of thirteen long and gruelling years at school, I think I can literally count how many times you've spoken to me on my fingers – and since I don't have thirteen fingers, that'd average it around less than once per year. But I understand, man, I really do. I mean, I'm just "that guy", right? We've been in the same class more years than not, but you just know too many people, and I just don't stand out. I'm only a shadow in comparison to you. A wallflower. A nobody. Why would you care about or even notice somebody like me? Like I said, I understand. Really.
That's the biggest difference between you and me. You can barely remember who I am, and I know almost everything about you. When I was younger, I wanted to introduce myself to you so badly; I wanted to meet you because I felt drawn to you. You were so cool, even back then. Everyone wanted to be your friend, and I just wanted to know more about you. Little did I know that I wouldn't ever need to breathe a word to you to do that. That's exactly where we stand today: you being the social little butterfly that you are, and me being the blonde kid that never actually had the balls to walk up to you and say 'hello'. At some moment in time, one which I can't quite pinpoint exactly, I started to resent you, because not only was I too shy to talk to you, you were too oblivious to talk to me. And I believe that was how the hatred began.
Every time I see you, which seems to be every few horrible minutes, I notice the things about you that really make me tick. For example, you're always laughing in the hallways. Kairi's a freaking comedian, isn't she? I can hear you from my locker, and you're always grinning when I look at you; your eyes glitter with some kind of stupid childish charm, and you have that damn bounce in your step that drives me up the wall. People are always talking to you, and you always smile and reply graciously, because that's just the way you are. You're polite. It's so easy to see it in your face, to read you; you would never dare to ignore someone, because you wouldn't ever want to be rude. You're kind like that, I suppose. Enough so for everyone to like you, but not enough to notice people who don't jump out at you. I apologise for not being much of a jumper. I guess that's why you always pass by me like I'm just part of the furniture, and I'm left hating the way your eyes sparkle and your gait springs.
And here's another thing: I hate the way you help people all the time. When some moron gets into a fight, you somehow magically appear and cover their ass. Why? Why do you care if they get pummelled into a pulp? It's not like you're tight or anything. I think this just falls under the category of you being that type of person. You know, nice. It's just like how I hear you offering your homework or class notes to someone who missed them, even though they could probably just as easily get them off the teacher. I see you smile that stupid smile of yours, the one that's so bright and warm and annoying, and then you say something like, "It's no problem; I'm happy to lend a hand" or words to that effect. I just don't understand why you burden yourself with other people's problems, why you're always helping them just for the sake of helping them; why do you have to naturally be such a damn hero?
I see you every day at school – even if you don't see me – and that's not even the end of it. To make matters worse, you've found a way to weasel yourself into my dreams. There's just no escaping you! I've just known you for too long, and I just think about you too much; you're annoying even when you're not around. You're on my mind just about every bloody moment of my life, and I hate it. I put so much energy into feeling the way I do about you, and you don't even notice me. I loathe you so badly, and you barely remember that I exist. Ironic, isn't it? I think about this all the time, but more so when I'm lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering how I'm supposed to catch your attention without throwing myself in front of you – or in front of a bus, because I know you'd somehow save me.
That was when I realised something. It tore me up inside and made me hate you even more, you jackass. I knew then that I had to write you this letter, because I decided that it was prime time that I tell you everything. Lying in my bed, about to fall asleep, I had an epiphany. A giant, ugly, cursed discovery that I wish I'd never stumbled upon.
I fucking love you, bitch.
Good luck figuring that one out.
- Roxas.