So this is kind of hard for me to write, but I hope I’ll feel better once I have. I’m not sure exactly what it is, possibly between a poem and a letter, but hey, I don’t exactly fit in either.
Since the day that I first heard your name- back when I still had grazed knees, dungarees, and wonky pigtails- many questions sprung from the wells of my mind.
How tall were you?
Were you a nice person?
Would I ever meet you?
And most importantly of all-
Did you like ducks as much as I did?
For a while you became a way of encouragement, someone I was told about to make me try harder. You were a champion at roller-blading, fantastic at swimming and amazing at riding a bike. You were made out to be everything I aspired to become, and a marvel in my mind. Whether this be true, I later realised, I knew not.
You were always there but not there, constantly missing. How is it that I was so aware of someone who knew not of my existence? Caring about the affairs of someone who remained a mystery in my mind?
I learned no more for many years, and you slipped from prominence in my mind. Not quite remembered, but not yet forgotten.
Your name passed my lips after what felt like an era, one day whilst I was weaving the fabric of a fantasy tale. It appears that I had unwittingly created a figment of my imagination that matched your character. I asked yet more questions, this time from a different source, now I triumphed. A small victory, but nonetheless I held the small snatches of information like treasures in my palm. I now knew the date you were born; a day I would inwardly celebrate.
I imagined you having birthday parties; opening presents, blowing out the candles and making a wish. However, whenever I picture your face, a blank still remained.
I must have pictured your face a thousand different ways: Long hair, short hair, inky black hair, blonde hair, brown hair, ginger hair, dyed hair, blue eyes, green eyes, grey eyes, hazel eyes, small nose, big nose, round face, long face, freckles and dimples- each and every thought fluttered through my mind, but you never seemed real.
Now though, now, I’ve seen your face. I must have looked at your face so many times, until I was certain I would recognise every feature etched into it. It’s strange. Before you became apparent to me, I could have passed you in the street unknowingly. It is unlikely, but even so, the mere thought sends shivers down my spine. With the others, when I see a mark on their face, I can see the story behind it, hear the scream they made when it happened, and how proud they were when they retold the story on the playground. But with you, with you…I only see the scars that remain.
Maybe one day I’ll summon up the courage to speak to you, to make my existence known. Will you want to know me, or will I be a burden? Will I regret my decision? It’s a risk I must take one day, but that day is not today, nor tomorrow or the day after. After all, ignorance is bliss, and I feel that we both deserve our sweet little innocent ignorance for just a few more years. But one day, one day…
Who knows, perhaps one day we will become friends?
I think I’ll cling on to that hope and I won’t let go unless you tear it from me.