Everything about you was thrilling. The handsome son of a diplomat, you were worldly and smart and happy to flirt with me. Although you filled that role for every girl in our circle.
Even so, I look back and realise I was a magnetic (albeit insecure) young woman. Whilst I was loud and silly, I was sociable and funny and physically appealing too.
So when we met through mutual friends in first semester, we clicked. We flirted online and in-person every day for 6 or so months. I came to like you a lot. At the time, I thought those feelings were reciprocated.
When you made it known that those feelings were unrequited, it hit me like a rock. I couldn’t sleep that night. I cried. I was confused. I played a lot of Third Eye Blind. Fuck.
In 2017, I still feel a twinge of nostalgia for you. But to be frank, I feel more fondness for the 2011 me, the one you helped form. I was an excited, energetic, overzealous person.
I don’t miss you. I actually miss the old me.