Dear John, the continuum.
If by chance, you’ve read the piece before this, one may rightfully conclude that I’m angry or upset. I’m not. In fact, I left out a couple of things. Like the fact that I can’t say I’ve ever felt misled, guided or that you were deceiving and dishonest. I have to say, I, by no means was given false hope by you. Which tells me you’ve matured from a past you. For deception in such a manner is how a child plays. That said, I thank you for sparing me the ride along, and the bullshit. For I, just as others out there, am in search of someone or anything that means something .
I, guilty of being just another hopeless romantic, am optimistic at most.
I have to say though, it’s beginning to get quite awkward. Of course I don’t see you as routinely as I had this summer, though I pass you just as often in the halls. It’s funny. I laugh to myself, remembering all the times you quickened your pace, hoping you wouldn’t catch my eye. I mean, it’s comical. Cute, actually, that all those times you thought you’d first spotted me in the halls. Ironically, I, in-fact had spotted you first and turned away. So this is why I laugh to myself.
Sincerely, with what was much like, “By Yours Truly,” Unwept soul