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An Unsent Letter - by Meghan Haviland

So our lives and paths seem not able to cross again. You're headed off to college far away in Oklahoma. I'm just going into highschool home in North Carolina. Two scary, unpredictable new chapters in our lives -- without eachother. Or is it, just me, without you, and you, with the promise of bigger and better things in your future. Do you feel that emptiness that I know will be with me for a long time since losing you?

You never knew how I really felt about you. To you, a gorgeous, talented, seventeen year old senior, I was probably just at the end of your friend ladder, just another fourteen year-old, just another... Yet it always seemed I was able to talk to you, and we did, driving around after play practice just talking. Then, there was no age difference. Just two real people talking about life and immortality.

Life seems to come so easily for you. You were always well-liked by everyone. A lot of people said you were a jerk, only opening up to girls and even then, only girls who 'looked good.' I didn't want to hear that. To me, you were real. And those people acted like they were your friend anyway. You make people fall into a trance, as if everyone has to like you. You charm them with your friendliness, talent, and acceptance of everything, even if you really aren't all that accepting and sometimes, I know you're not.

Life for me never came easily. Never does. You admired me, I think, because I've traveled everywhere. From Shanghai, China, to Niagra Falls, New York, to the Carribean, to France all in a quick sprint of my almost-fifteen-years. You think that's cool, and maybe you're jealous. But you know, it's because my parents are divorced. That was hard for me. I know you know a little of that because of what happened when you were seven, but at least you feel that closure. With me, I doubt my Dad even cares. He just takes me for the summer in all his exotic locations, out of.. duty? Your mom and step-dad are always there for you, I think. Don't take them for granted. Try to go home some. Whenever I talked to you, you never wanted to leave and go home, then again, neither did I.

Kissing you opened up whole new feelings towards you. Do you remember that day? It was about five days until opening night of our production of the musical. Saturday rehearsal. Lunch break. Girls bathroom. Is it all coming back to you now? I knew my heart was on the line, but I contributed anyway... I'll never know why you kissed me, in the most awkward place: the girls bathroom, but you did -- we did. Things didn't change after that. At least we never brought light onto the change. Maybe we couldn't find batteries for the flashlight. Maybe we were too scared to search. We made it clear to ourselves we could be nothing but friends since you were headed off to Tulsa, an almost freshman in college, and me, an almost highshool freshman. I pretended I was okay with that.

I think I loved you, but I was afraid. Afraid of my feelings and I never told you. You just figured I was accepting and we would go on being friends, driving around, doing chinese firedrills with Isaac until we dropped him off and then parked in the pharmacy parking lot, watching the cars go by and talking about what life really meant to us.

I think I love you still, but I'm still afraid.

And with other guys? I've been through so many guys (no-- I said that wrong-- so many guys have been through ME) and heartbreaks and being taken advantage of so many times, it lines around the block about six times. Girls and love drift to you like clouds to sky. Maybe I should feel special you singled me out. Or did you?

I wish I could hear you sing again. I know you will be famous one day. You're a wonderful actor, singer, and writer. Life holds only the best for you. I'll be proud to say you were my very best friend, if only for a few months during the play. Will you always think of me as 'Ms. Dulcie,' and expect me to think of you as 'Mr. Percival Browne?' Are we still going to live together some day in Poland? Go on extravagant trips to Egypt and Sydney.. and I must ask: Do you remember where I live?

You graduated on Monday. I watched you, barely three feet away, holding my flute, regretting the closure that the final playing of Pomp and Circumstance would bring. Al Gore was the speaker and all he spoke of was the flood. But I didn't hear much about that. I was thinking about you. Screw Gore.

Don't forget me. I'll never forget you. I don't think I could... Look me up in about four years. Maybe things really didn't change. Even if they did, somehow I doubt my feelings for you will. Until then, they're dormant. Not dead, just... sleeping.

I love you, goodbye, and adieu. I'm all smiles. Meet me in Cairo. Remember that.