To a Boy

Dear Boy,

There was a time when I couldn't find any words around you. Everything you did, every mention of your name brought silly thoughts to my head. I have now regressed and am living in the happy world of childhood, where the only things I run after are dandelions, fireflies, approval, and attention.

But not from you. See, at some point between where you left and I arrived, I let you go. Our friendship could have been wonderful--I saw its potential spread out before me the last time you and I talked. But the opportunity for that now is slim; and I am content with that.

You were from a time in my life when confidence was small and uncertain, when I was barely beginning to know my heart. I knew I liked guys like you: strong, dry, and different. Vodka men. Now I am a little more confident and a little more knowledgeable of my heart, and you are living your life. It's good. I'm good.

There's a storm bubbling up outside: clouds lining the sky, and thunder edging closer and closer. But I am at peace. I feel like a child, a sweet young girl who knows love only in the sweetest, most basic sense of the word.

Having wanted you at one point, and not being able to have you in the end has given me strength and supplied innocence where otherwise I would have lost it. I have learned to conceal emotions and to let them fade with time. I have learned to have peace in the middle of storms.

I am content.

Thank you,

Irene.