My heart was still pounding. I stared up into a darkening sky as everything fell into sleep. All the lights began to fade. 

But mine didn’t.  

My mind wandered aimlessly but always came back to the same thought.  


It couldn’t stay away. No matter the barriers. I was addicted, and it’s funny because sometimes I felt like pain was my drug. 

I laid my head back against the wall and wrote my name in the fog that had settled on my window. 

Sometimes you came as a stabbing twisting pain in my chest. Other times you came as agonizing sobs. But mostly you came as a subtle ache.  

I remember the hours I spent getting dolled up just to catch your eye. The sweaty palms when I stood a little longer just so you would pass by. 

I knew you would never notice me, but I couldn’t help it. I was addicted. 

I tried to stop, but every distraction in the world wasn’t enough. 

I realize that in all the memories of us, you probably never even learned my name. 

My throat began to burn again. I pressed my hands against my chest, and let the tears roll off of my chin. 

That’s why I wrote you the note. 

Not because I thought there was a chance for us but because I needed you to know.  

I had to get better. I had to cure myself of this addiction even if it meant replacing you with another. 

I had to get over you. 

So I wrote down everything. And a hundred drafts and tear-stained paper wads later, I had the perfect confession. 

I told you I couldn’t love you. Not if it meant destroying myself. I don’t think you would ever want to destroy me. A person you didn’t even know. 

Everyone seemed so surprised when I approached you. I didn’t look at them, though I knew all the faces that you would find familiar. 

There was only one face I was looking at as I clutched the carefully folded note so tightly in my grasp. You were so handsome and peaceful, yet still unable to see me. 

I came as close as I could dare with all of the curious faces around and subtly dropped the note into your casket. 

Maybe there’s some consolation in that. The fact that someone cares about you whose name you don’t even remember. Someone who has watched you for so long and has even grown to love you. 

If I had done this for you, perhaps there was even someone out there like that for me. Someone who has quietly loved me and thought of me constantly to the point where my smile became their drug. 

Perhaps you never would have cared, but I believe you do now. But you were never meant to belong to me. To let me have your heart, though you held mine for so long without even knowing it. 

Your time was too short. We never had a chance. But I had to get over you, and this was the best way. I had to find peace, and I’d never had the courage to speak to you in person. 

But now, I felt like I finally had your attention, so I looked up into the sky to speak to you for the first time that you may have actually been listening.  

Through the aching in my chest and the tears in my eyes, I smiled. 

“I’ll be alright, Charles Hamman. I’ll get over you, but you’ll never be forgotten. Not by me. I will always love you.” 


One Reply to “Unrequited”

  1. Heartbreaking, to say the least. But heartbreaking is good. It is one of the strongest feelings. When hearts break, the sounds they make often turn into art. And said art gives others hope and mends their own broken hearts.

    Liked by 1 person

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