Dear blue haired girl,
I’ve been watching you.
Oh wow that came out creepier than intended.
I’m not stalking you.
I don’t think I am.
The first time I saw you was last Autumn.
I had finally managed to pull myself out of bed and go jogging before my first class, and there you were.
Smiling that beautiful smile of yours.
You had a sketchbook with you, the one you had before the one you have now, with the lilac cover.
And you were just sitting there on the bench under the tree, tongue poking out in concentration, and all I could think was
wow, early morning jogging is my new hobby.
Some days, I saw glimpses of your sketchbook.
You are so amazingly talented.
To me, you are simply indescribable.
That didn’t stop me from spending a lot of time trying to describe you.
And then one day I realized that you didn’t even know how bloody perfect you were.
I could see it in the way you scrutinized every page in your sketchbook.
I could see it in the way you would pinch your stomach, and your wrists, and your thighs.
I could see it in the way you stopped smiling.
That crushed me.
So that’s why I am writing you this letter, blue haired girl.
I hope that it’s you reading it right now.
I just wanted to ask you to please keep smiling, and sketching, and being happy, because you deserve it.
You deserve the world.
I am not the world.
I am the girl with green running shoes who jogs past you every morning.
Just thought I should let you know, in case you ever want to talk.
Or just yell out Reagan, and I’ll be there.