You’re Just a Girl, And I’m Just a Boy
Don’t you always root for the dark horse?
Dear Angeline,
You seem to be avoiding me.
I miss your voice hanging by the threads of mine.
It’s driving me mad.
You dance with your other suitors as if you’re in a long-lost fairy tale. Well, darling, I’m not the fairy tale. I’m better than anything you could ever have dreamed. I’m hoping you’ll wake up from your slumber and smile at me before we run away together for good.
I didn’t mean to offend you with the gifts I gave. I thought that was the way to your heart. I’m sorry for being naive. I hope that one slip-up didn’t cost me that heart of yours I crave.
I read everything you write — here and everywhere — and I’m constantly amazed by you. Someday I want to get a tattoo of something you’ve written; maybe it would fit at the base of my collar bone. Then you’d be close to my heart at all times even when we’re far away from each other.
I know you have some hard decisions to make. I know you think you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. I know you through and through even if you don’t want to know a shred more about me.
Sorry. I’m feeling sorry for myself. I’ll try to be better, really. Just don’t turn away from me. I want a chance with you, believe me.
I meant it when I said you were gorgeous. That wasn’t a lie. That wasn’t an empty compliment. That wasn’t me trying to get into your pants.
I won’t say I could seduce you. I don’t know if I could, really, but I think you’d be okay with that. Your kindness bleeds through everything. Some days it makes me weep. What kind of universe would make something like you and then leave it out to suffer? Madness. If there is a God, I haven’t forgiven Him yet for what He did to you, your family, and the world around us.
My godmother, bless her heart, would say I needed time to grieve. Maybe she would even suggest I move on. But she had no idea how I felt about you. That was my secret. I thought I had to be someone notable for you to take notice, but you didn’t even listen to the band. What wasted years those were. I took a gamble, and I lost.
I’m not going to make that mistake again.
The truth is that I think we both want the same kind of world. We want a kind world, a forgiving world, a world where dog-eat-dog has gone the way of extinction. I’m so tired of everyone fighting and being at each other’s throats. I’m so tired of hate ruling the hour while everyone just looks on as willing accomplices while atrocities occur.
You can think I’m prejudiced all you want. But I’m not. It’s a mask I wore, nothing more. You’ll get to know me better if only you give me a chance. I want you to know me beyond the music and beyond the carefully curated image I bear.
You’re just a girl, and I’m just a boy. Why does it have to be any more complicated than that? Forget all the details. Forget all the labels. Let’s just try to live as the freaks we are.
I know the future is probably bleak. I know we’re slowly running out of time. I know that we both have secrets we need to air out in the open. I know I’m not who you wanted, I know I’m not your first choice, and I know that you think I’m just that flamboyant type who’ll never settle down.
Well, I’m going to prove you wrong. I’m going to win your heart. That’s not a promise. It’s my wish, that’s all. I’m not here to trap you with archaic words and rites. That’s beneath me.
The truth is I’ve read through some of your favorite books. The one about angels and demons was interesting, but it didn’t resonate with me. The one about the deaf boy falling in love made me cry long after I finished reading. But my favorite was that fantasy trilogy you like: I thought it was superb, every page flying by as I wanted to know what happened next. You have excellent taste. It’s a shame you said you’re not going to collect books anymore. That was such a deep part of who you are; how can you let it go so easily?
I just don’t want you to wound yourself in pursuit of these guys who’ll never give you the ideals you want. I don’t care what you write or who you talk to — but I want to be there for you through it all.
I’m sorry you fell in love with a liar. I don’t know if he can change, but maybe someone like you could incite some kind of transformation for him. If anyone could, it’s you. But why should you carry that burden when you’ve got so much else going on? Shouldn’t you be focusing on yourself and the healing you need to do to get through a lifetime?
I know this wasn’t the love letter you wanted. I know I’m still not worthy of you. But I plead with you to give me a chance. I’d go on my knees and make a pledge to you like a knight of the old days. You’re not Guinevere waiting on Arthur and being tempted by Lancelot; no, you’re Morgan Le Fay, always left in the background of the story despite being the damn most interesting character in the whole mythology.
See? I’m not stupid. I don’t just write pretty songs for girls who just wish they could make out with me. I love them and their support, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think they really see me and what I’m trying to do. To them, I’m no more than a Ken doll who puts on flashy clothes as he dances across a stage. To them, I’m just a commodity to be inhaled and then forgotten like some kind of hallucinogen in the shape of a person.
And I do want to help you. You don’t even need to ask. Get rid of your job? I’ll be there. Take this creative journey of yours? I’ll be there. Get rid of all the dragons and make a brand new world? I’ll be there too.
I want to have the time of my life with you. Will you let me? Please give me a chance, Angeline. We don’t have to be like Hamilton and Angelica, those forbidden lovers who were never satisfied with their lots in life. We can be so much more than that. We can be lovers walking hand in hand in the daylight. I won’t hide you away and keep you a secret. That’s not my style.
I’m not asking for your decision today. I just ask you, as a man in love with you, to be seen in all my shades and weighed as such.
I’ll never be satisfied if you don’t.
With all my love,
Christian
