Why do you like me?
You’ve scooted closer to me, and done it more than three times. When I asked if my glasses were crooked, you could have said “they’re fine” or “no, they’re not” but you told me I looked nice. I embarrassed myself, and still you sat by me. You made me laugh, and partnered yourself with me before you partnered anyone else up. After I won some game, you told me I was amazing and looked ready to hug me-but instead you high-fived. In an independent game, you had the ball to get me out, and I was three feet away. But you ignored me. It happened twice. Then you told our team we were not working together or spreading out, but then said “except for (my name) cause she’s-“ then you abruptly stopped yourself. You showed off, especially when I was around. In a water battle, I shot you with the hardest one there, and then you still made conversation afterwards.
But then, it’s all so confusing cause when my brother got me out, you looked me in the eyes and clapped for my failure.
Here’s the reason why I don’t like you back: a boy was bullied by your best friend and I didn’t see you stand up for him. I’ll ask you about it, though, because I don’t want to jump to conclusions or make assumptions.
I’m just a random girl, you could like so many others. Such popular girls at your school, and you choose me? I’m pimply, I’ve got glasses and braces, and I’ve never worn a crop top or extremely short shorts. Every day I wear my hair in a messy bun, and if it’s down it’s so frizzy. My tan amounts to red ears. I constantly pick my fingernails, so they always are disgustingly terrible. I’d like to know...why do you like me?
So this is a letter I’ve wanted to get down on paper that’s for the guy that likes me. Only in my imagination would I have the guts to give it to him.