Dear Boy Who Didn't Like Me Back,

When my friends told me they thought you had a crush on me, I shrugged it off. "Aw, that's so sweet," I said.

"You should see how he looks at you in class."

"95% chance he really likes you."

"He always tries to start conversation with you and no one else."

After awhile, the idea grew on me. In class, I started listening to you more intently when you raised your hand, analyzing each answer for things I thought were wise or relatable. We were similar in a lot of ways, so our conversations were always interesting and engaging. Then, I began to notice things about you I had never noticed before-your walk, dark brown eyes, your handwriting and clothing style. And then I became friends with your friends, and we started spending more time together. It was clear I was starting to like you.

I told myself I didn't, that you're weren't "my type." But I think the idea of someone liking me, who seemed so perfect for me, made me the happiest I had been in awhile. I looked forward to days we had classes together and blushed when I saw you at the dining hall. Our relationship was strange to say the least--we hardly acknowledged each other in public but when we spent time together in a smaller group, we really hit it off. The changing nature of our friendship from best friends to strangers at the drop of a hat had me convinced that I made this entire thing up in my head--it was foolish to think you had feelings for me.

But when you asked me to date parties and we sat together on the bus talking and laughing, I knew in my heart that those feelings were there and mutual, and kicked myself for having thought otherwise. I looked forward to every weekend, hoping that we would make plans. Every song I listened to reminded me of you in some way and to this day, when I hear those songs, I can't help but remember the happiness associated with our blossoming friendship.

But still, we hadn't exchanged numbers. It sounds dumb, but it seemed strange after awhile to be spending time together almost every weekend and still not have something seemingly foundational to a friendship in the 21st century. And then my doubt kicked in again, telling me that you didn't like me and never had.

After winter break, we no longer had a class together and our friend groups drifted. I didn't see you as much, but that didn't change my feelings. We still spent time with mutual friends on the weekends but it felt like you weren't happy to talk to me, always staring off into the distance or latching onto a nearby friend. You stopped inviting me to date parties or asking about the homework.

What did I do to make him stop liking me, I thought, Was it something I said? Was it something I did? Am I not pretty enough? Thin enough? Fun enough? Smart enough?

I looked at every girl around me and saw someone with traits superior to my own. Contrasted with the happiness I felt first semester, second semester uncovered sadness and insecurities I hadn't seen since high school. The most painful thing was when your best friend told me you were in love with another girl.

"You're way out of his league," my friends said to comfort me. While I appreciated the effort, it didn't matter.

I never wanted summer to come, because I knew it would be a long time before I would see you or my other friends again. It's taken me a long time to get over you and I'm still working on it to be honest. But now as I sit here typing this letter, reflecting on the year and looking outside at this beautiful summer weather, I know that things happen for reasons. Whether you did or didn't like me, it doesn't matter because I am the one responsible for the emotional strife. There's no doubt you gave me mixed signals and I know I deserve better. I deserve someone who will say hi to me and doesn't make me feel lesser than you. But more than anything, I've learned that you create your own happiness, and never again should I rely on a boy to do so for me.

Sincerely

Bryce