I stood motionless for a few minutes, trying to make sense of the feelings that were overcoming me. Did I want to cry? Scream? Stay in a stupor of emotions?
Yes, to all of the above.

It wasn’t that the words were upsetting but in how much they were like a mirror on myself. I know he didn’t study me or ask around—as there was no one except Melissa who really “knew” me. Well, that’s not entirely true: if you saw Melissa, then you knew Clarissa was the opposite so while she would reach out and take what she wanted I had to shuffle back and mentally talk myself out of everything.

“Are you alright?”
I only nodded as I stood next to my locker.
“Are you sure, I mean, did I say anything to upset you?”
I shook my head and continued to look at the words.
“It’s very…”
“…Bad?”
“No, it sounds lonely.”
“It’s what I call “being the lamp post.”
“How so?” I asked as I looked up to this face.
“I’d stand on the side of the street or the hallway, like we are now, and just look at life. Not living it, but just watching. Some days I thought that I should bring some Jujyfruits and some popcorn and I just continue spectating life. I was going to do that until a few days ago when I finally got the strength to talk, or maybe better put, to write to you.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean, I’m asking the world to be a part of yours, for as long as you’ll want me.”

There were reasons I was never asked to go to a dance or even out on dates: I was afraid to ask anyone. That and Melissa would get to them first and—due to our physical similarities—the guys would not separate us as two different people and the ones I kind of liked…well, they’d ignore me.

“I am willing to stand at your side or let you lead.”
I folded the noted and put it in my pocket.
“I know, I’m…weird. I’m crazy.”
“Welcome to my club.”