You Don't Know Me

“Juliet,

“You don’t know me. You think you know me, but believe me, you don’t. You never have. We talked, many times, a long time ago. We were friends, right? Well I think maybe we were, I’ve never really been good at defining the word. There are people who’ve considered me friends, but I don’t know if I’ve ever considered them as friends. I think we knew each other in high school, people thought I was popular. I think people liked me, sorry, no one liked me, they liked the fake persona that I showed everyone. They liked the kind caring person, with perfect grades, Class President. But that was never me. To be honest, I find that that is just a completely different person who would pilot my body from time to time.

“You say we cared about each other, but that must be a lie. I don’t think I’ve ever actually cared about anyone, for any reason. I remember Helen said that she thought I had a crush on her. Which is crazy, I mean, what is a crush? I’ve never understood the “butterflies in your stomach” feeling. But she asked me out nonetheless, I mean she thought I had a crush on her, plus she had a crush on me, so she was probably reaching anyway. I can still picture the embarrassment on her face when I said no. I really felt myself in that moment, that moment in which I stared deep into her eyes, and spoke with a very flat voice, the voice that I felt most comfortable with but rarely used, and said “No.”

“You may think this sounds unhappy and sure, I was miserable in highschool. The pressure I would put on myself to be this extraordinary person that wasn’t really me led me down a dark, dark path. But I’m not unhappy, not anymore. No, if anything, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been because I finally allowed myself to be who I really am. I finally allowed myself to admit I wasn’t happy about this or that. I finally allowed myself to understand that what made me happiest was to be by myself. I don’t seek any kind of validation from others, I just accept myself as the person I am.

“You don’t know me. You think you know me, but believe me, you don’t. You never have. You may wonder why I’m writing this and if I’m honest, I don’t really know why. I guess I’ve finally decided to admit to you what you deserve. I finally decided to admit to you what I admitted to myself so long ago. I want you to know that you are a very kind person, I don’t think ill of you and I never have. I just want you to understand why I never reach out.I just want you to understand that I never really cared and that you should stop trying to get me to reach out.

“Sincerely,

“Florence Levine”

Florence stared at the email she’d just written, an email that she’d drafted in her head time and time again. She hovered her mouse over the send button and stared at it for probably about five minutes, before she moved her mouse to the button that read “Save to Drafts” and clicked it. She sighed.

“One day,” she whispered.