Dear Dominic, I don’t really know if you’ll ever read this, and maybe that’s okay. I think I’ve spent so much time replaying everything in my head that I just needed somewhere to put the words instead of carrying them around. I know you knew I liked you, and I know things probably looked strange from your perspective. Maybe I came across as too much. Maybe I made you uncomfortable. Maybe you thought I was crazy. If that’s how it seemed, I’m genuinely sorry. That was never what I wanted. The truth is much simpler than it probably looked. I had a crush on you, and because I barely knew you, my mind filled in all the blanks with hope. Sometimes hope makes people do things they normally wouldn’t. It makes them overthink every interaction, wonder if a glance meant something, or read too deeply into small moments. Looking back, I know I probably built up an idea of you more than I ever got the chance to know the real you. I think what’s been hardest isn’t that you didn’t like me back, it’s the embarrassment that came afterward. Knowing you probably saw me differently than I saw myself has been difficult to carry. I keep wondering what you thought when my name came up, whether you laughed about it, whether you rolled your eyes, or whether you just wanted me to disappear. Those thoughts have been louder than I’d like to admit. I’ve questioned myself over and over, asking if I really was as weird as I feel now. I replay everything, searching for the exact moment I crossed a line or became someone you’d never want to talk to. Maybe there wasn’t one moment at all. Maybe things just weren’t meant to be anything more than two people who briefly crossed paths. Still, it’s hard not to wish I could go back and handle everything differently. The age difference was something I thought about constantly. It was one of the reasons I never really tried to talk to you much in the first place, because I knew it could make things awkward. I never expected you to feel the same way, and I never wanted to put you in an uncomfortable position. I just couldn’t help how I felt. Feelings don’t usually ask for permission before they show up. They don’t care whether the timing is right or whether the situation makes sense. They just happen. I wish mine had been quieter. I wish they hadn’t made me overthink so much or made me feel so exposed. For a while, I let this whole situation convince me there was something wrong with me, that caring too much somehow made me broken. I’m trying to believe that isn’t true anymore. I’m writing this because I don’t want this to be a story I keep carrying forever. Whether you thought I was weird, immature, or simply someone you didn’t know, I accept that I can’t change your opinion. What I can change is how I see myself. I don’t want to keep calling myself crazy for having feelings. I don’t want one crush to become the thing that defines my confidence. I hope, if you ever think about me, you don’t remember someone “crazy.” I hope you remember someone who was awkward, outgoing, kind, thoughtful, maybe a little too hopeful, but ultimately just a person who liked you and didn’t know what to do with those feelings. I truly wish you the best, and I’m ready to let this become a chapter that is left unfinished, instead of the whole story. Thank you for reminding me that sometimes growing up means learning to let go with kindness, even when your heart doesn’t want to. I truly wish you the best.