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An Open Letter to Someone I Thought Was Going to Mean A Lot to Me

Updated on March 25, 2015

The Scene of the Crime

I know I said I wouldn't talk about you publicly, but....

Dear [Insert Name Here],

I probably shouldn't be writing about this/us, but you probably shouldn't be doing what you're doing either. So, I guess it's cool.

We met through Twitter on an average day last August. You followed me after stalking me on a friend's profile; I was ecstatic and wasted no time DMing you under the guise that you were cute and I wanted to know who you were. That was a lie. As was our entire first conversation. I actually am a fan of the band, I don't live/go to school in London, and I am certainly not the person to talk to about the outdoors. I take responsibility for the fact that we started out based on a fabricated version of my life, but you're not so innocent either.

You asked for my number in that last direct message and I quickly obliged. I might have come off as over interested in you, but I wasn't about to lose my chance at a piece of your life by playing petty games. The rest of the day I waited by my phone, anticipating our future conversations. My best friend knew why I wasn't responding to witty remarks about the entire situation like I normally would have. I was too busy wondering what we would talk about, let alone have in common. You travel the world for a living, while I only dream about far away places. We were two different individuals from two different backgrounds...what was I getting myself into?

My phone lit up at 2 AM the next morning. Seeing that I had a text from an international calling code I didn't recognize caused me to hyperventilate. You were real, something was happening, and the world suddenly seemed like a better place. I had waited twelve hours for a simple "Hi :)", but at the time I didn't consider the delay strange. Millions of girls my age would have killed to be in my position, and I ate it up. Looking back on it, it's hard not to wonder what the hell took you so long. You were traveling on a bus all day; couldn't you have gotten in touch with me earlier? I guess all of that makes sense now, knowing what I know. But at 2:15 on a Thursday morning, our paths began to intertwine.

Before long we were texting consistently all day, everyday. We made plans to meet across state lines in September when your job would bring you to a city only three hours from me. It hit me that you were actually serious about it when you asked if I wanted tickets to see the show you were a part of bringing to life; I didn't tell you I already had a pair of floor seats. When we weren't marking our calendars, you sent me pictures of empty stadiums and lonely hotel rooms. I responded with encouraging words and private thoughts that now make me feel sick. I was wrapped up in the idea of you and I was completely failing to hide it from everyone.

About two weeks into our daily exchanges, you had a break on tour. You bragged about renting a vintage car and driving up and down the West Coast by yourself. "San Diego to Seattle," you boasted to me one night. Knowing how badly you wanted to escape crazy teenage fangirls and large crowds, I wholeheartedly believed you. Imagine my surprise when pictures of you in Vegas appeared on my timeline; you were definitely not alone in any of them. I suppose I should have cut ties with you then, but I was naïve and you had connections. You were the key to the world I so badly wanted to be belong to, and I couldn't tell you goodbye just yet.

Suddenly it was September and I found myself in my Jeep with my best friend, road tripping to Tulsa, Oklahoma. I was finally going to meet you in person, and my nerves were getting the better of me. When night fell, we almost didn't go to the bar you were at because we were nervous you weren't real; we couldn't handle that possibility after all of the scenarios we'd come up with while laughing about how lucky we were. But, you were real, you got me drunk, and our words slurred together as awkward hellos melted into intense conversation; our group spent hours discussing fate, Australian rock bands and insider secrets some websites would pay millions for. I'm sure I sounded like a hot mess, but you...I begged you to keep rambling about your life and beliefs, your foreign accent seeming oddly familiar. We wrote our names on the walls of the pub that night, rendering us immortal in a world of drunken tales and one night stands. Midnight Memories, that's for sure.

When you offered to take us back to your hotel, we didn't hesitate to cram ourselves into the back of an overcrowded car. We drank some more when we got up to your room, and somewhere along the line the two of us ended up alone, our crew leaving us for a more interesting/extremely risky adventure. I asked you what you wanted to do and you answered by crashing your lips to mine. Even in my drunken haze, my mind fogged by shots of Jack and multiple Long Islands, I knew there was a part of your life you were hiding from me. I pushed you away and joked about feeling sick to my stomach, unable to tell you the truth. I prayed for my best friend to hurry back as you started drinking wine from the bottle. After what felt like days, she stumbled in and you called us a cab, eager for us to leave. To this day, I still don't know what you really thought of my sharp reaction.

The next morning you sent smiley faces and asked how I was doing. I was battling the hangover from Hell, while you were already at work; you always had such an unbelievably hectic schedule. Later that day, I walked from our hotel to where your buses were parked. I was given tickets to the main event and sent on my way. Girls were visibly jealous, but I didn't care anymore. The events from the night before were starting to haunt me, and the attention your lifestyle brought you was beginning to feel incredibly unauthentic. My tickets were better than the ones you gave me, by the way. You should know your "generosity" made a really sweet girl's night; the seats she had purchased were in the upper level of the arena, so tickets so close to the floor were a precious gift. I didn't tell her how I really earned them.

Three hours and two boy bands later, the show was over and you left town, taking whatever we had started with you. I thought you had disappeared off the face of the earth, until one day two weeks ago when something must have triggered a memory of me. A brief exchange of messages led to the real reason you'd decided to get back in touch with me: You're On the Road Again, and you want to meet up this summer. Apparently you think I'm unaware of what's going on in your life; don't you know by now that the internet reveals all of your mistakes and ill kept secrets? I didn't even bother responding to your invitation.

So I guess this is Where We Are now....You still blowup my phone when you've had one too many pints on a night out with friends....and I still bought tickets to the tour this year. I'm sure I'll occasionally think about you, but now it will be with mixed emotion. I like to believe I'll never see you again, but I'm sure I'll probably change my mind before July.

Sincerely not yours,

Shelby

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