Please don't read this, I just convinced/promised myself that actually sending it to you would make existence quantifiably more interesting.

I think it was junior year specifically, because that was my least "fulfilling" year- I had debate, band, all of those ap classes, even symphony in the morning; I was very tired, unhappy and felt like I didn't "want to keep doing" what I was doing. But in high school generally, I have the memory that I would tell myself that the only reason I was going to school was because maybe I'd get to see you.

I'm "pretty sure" there were some mornings where I'd forget to say something like, "Maybe you'll get to see him today!" and I would just go to school without any real reason, and maybe that's why I've so convinced myself it was a lie. I remember thinking, "You know, I woke up every morning with the hopes of seeing you" because it was always in the context of a fantasy; I was telling you, sometime in the future in a well-decorated apartment; or I was just telling a friend; or maybe I was writing it in my memoirs. I think I mostly "just had the thought" of getting out of bed only with the hopes of seeing you, I don't really remember experiencing reluctance at waking up transform into enthusiasm because I thought of maybe running into you in the halls. Maybe once.

I feel confused. I wanted to write this because I felt so empty and worthless, meaningless, the universe felt so arbitrary and it was 8 am and I was crawling into bed, defeated, and just let my mind wander. I remember thinking, "These thoughts are interesting", although I don't remember what thoughts prompted that thought. Eventually I was thinking about, although I didn't label it at the time, back when my life wasn't as consumed with detachment and meaninglessness. This era, loosely defined from 7th grade until my spring semester freshman year, was contextualized by specific romantic urges. There was always someone I'd think "endlessly" of.

And it was mostly a secret, until it wasn't. But still I tried not to talk about it because even now I think of how embarrassed I am. I'm so humiliated, in nearly every interaction I have, at the thought of mentioning any attraction I've ever had. Even now I'm afraid to type the word "obsession" which is what I think it really was (and is), and as I'm writing this message I'm convincing myself that having a "romantic obsession" is really what gave my life "meaning" in this era loosely defined from 7th grade until my spring semester freshman year.

And isn't that interesting?