to him.

5;

Dear, You.

Today at school, I saw you flirting with a freshman. She was giggling and hardcore blushing while you pinned her to the locker and whispered in her ear.

I don't know why I thought you would be into guys anyway. The popular crowd consumed you and it would be weird... right?

The freshman had blonde hair and bright blue eyes, I see you have a type.

That probably doesn't mean anything anyway. Anyone can like any kind of person.

But I still feel ridiculous for pining after someone who recently moved. It's only been a week that you've been here, so it'd be weird.

It feels stupid to be writing to you through a series of notes you'll never see in this lifetime.

So I want to stop this.

But I can't.

Writing is how I speak, and I'm just phsycing myself up to have a conversation with you.

Through words!?

I think I'll stop now.

From, Me.