She wrote a letter for him, in hopes that he would read it and feel everything she felt. She never gave it to him.
It sat on her desk amongst scraps of paper ripped from notebooks in frustration. Covered in coffee rings and the residue of pencil shavings, she will probably never give it to him.
The letter is destined to sit on her desk forever, never being seen by anyone's eyes but hers.
She likes to read it sometimes when she can't sleep, or when her eyes stop focusing on what she's doing and drift over to it.
Her fingers will run over the surface of the paper, tracing small shapes before creeping under the corners of the carefully folded letter.
She'll open it slowly, smiling softly as she remembers the passion she felt when scribbling down her thoughts.
She then smooths out the crease that's trying so hard to keep the two halves of the paper together.
The words on the paper are messy, some are scribbled out and some are underlined multiple times but she knows them too well and reads them with ease.
'My feelings for you are like a dying star'
She will mutter the words under her breath as she reads.
'At first, they shone brightly, lighting up the darkest of nights. I counted on you when I could not see.'
She'll start to analyse her own words, looking for mistakes.
'Those feelings grew, the light getting brighter and brighter with each passing day. It felt good at first. The light was spectacular, I couldn't look away'.
She'll smirk underneath attempts to keep a straight face. She always did have a dramatic side to her.
'But then it got too bright. It got too bright to fast and it felt wrong. Is it supposed to feel like this? I asked.'
She'll keep muttering her own words to her empty room, letting them sink into the walls for safe keeping.
'My feelings for you, like a dying star got too intense. The burning love I felt for you changed. It burned, oh it still burned. But it wasn't love.
As the letter takes a turn, she will take a deep breath. Those feelings of passion will return and she'll begin to read quicker.
'After an agonizing build-up, the explosion came. Was it the cocky grin, or was it the snark in your voice? Whatever it was, it finally enlightened me.'
She'll pause for a few seconds before breathing deeply and carrying on.
'I didn't love you anymore. That burning sun of feelings left a dark hole'
The last two sentences will be whispered, rather than muttered, and she will close the letter and place it back down on the desk with a shallow breath.
He will never know the contents of this letter. She promises herself to send it to him signed with a flowy signature and a smile but a part of her knows she won't send it after all.