I still have that macaroni art in the shape of a smiley face that you made me in first grade. I remember trying my best to stand next to you in line when we walked from the classroom to the cafeteria. When we played our recorders in front of everyone in music class, I made sure to hit all the notes perfectly on Hot Cross Buns so that you would think I was cool.
I miss the innocence that came with wanting to get put on your dodgeball team in gym class. There were no expectations when asking you to play Battleship or help me build a puzzle during free time. When you gave me your painting or drew me a card, it was because you actually cared about me and wanted to show that, and not because you were hoping for anything in return. I miss that, too.
When you asked me to be your Valentine, I got my first butterflies. Me? Your Valentine? It was the highest of honors in fourth grade. To know that you thought I was cool, too, made me forget about that bratty girl who made fun of my pigtails. You liked me; that's all that mattered.
On the bus on the way to school, I always used your name as my future husband when playing M.A.S.H. My friends would giggle and stare whenever we talked to each other, and I'm sure it was super obvious that I liked you. Oh gosh, it's embarrassing how obvious it was. Sixth-grade me was awkward and shy, but you didn't care. You still walked with me to class and made me blush when you noticed my haircut.
Liking you was simple. You were funny, cute and paid attention to me. That was all that mattered in the world of middle school. We were young and carefree, our biggest worries being running the mile in gym and talking in front of the class for book reports.
Everything changed as soon as the unforgiving tide of puberty struck down upon us all. Suddenly, I had to work for your attention. You would look past me while I was talking and stare at the group of cheerleaders who were stretching in the hallway. You started to change the way you spoke. Other girls called it charming, but I knew you. You had intentions, and they weren't always good.
The era of innocence was gone. It was no longer enough to simply like someone for who they were. Now you had to be sexually attracted to them, too, and my eighth grade insecurities were enough to prevent me from trying against every girl who vied for your attention. Now, I had to care about the way I looked. I remember the first time I sat down and had my best friend's older sister show me how to do my makeup, because hiding my flaws was the only solution I could think of to make you notice me.
But you still didn't. No matter how hard I tried, things were different now. Now you would rather talk to a girl who would do anything to make you feel good than the one who was there when you fell off the monkey bars in third grade and broke your arm, but still refused to laugh, even though everyone else did.
I hate that everyone acted like nothing was different. This was just how it was now. Growing up when I was young was made out to be this amazing thing that everyone wanted a part of, but all it turned out to be was a sour taste in my mouth when I noticed you wink at that girl whose name you didn't even know.
As I've gotten older and settled into adult life (still partially in denial because I'll always be a kid at heart), there are a lot of things that I've had to accept are just how it is now. That's the sucky part of growing up and it's one of those things that no one talks about but everyone has to go through. All you can do is just accept it and realize that people are going to change, but that doesn't mean you have to.
The point of this letter was to thank you for teaching me to treasure the little things while I still have them. That being innocent and carefree may be precious and short-lived, but it'll show you the parts of life that you crave the most: Having fun and loving others, without having to guess people's motives or figure out if they're lying to you (or all that other crap that comes with being an adult).
And you know what else? Thank you for teaching me how to embrace reality and not be afraid of change anymore. It's not easy, but at least I know how it feels to have everything change so quickly and now I can better prepare myself for it. I hope that, wherever you are now, you remember the way things used to be and look back on our memories together with a smile, because I'll always remember the first boy that made me feel wanted.
