Addressed to the Rest

Okay boys, listen up.

You're all so interesting. I cannot address you by name, so I choose to take a blatantly artsy and vague approach and address you all as one entity. I've been weighed down lately by all colours of emotion - some positive, some negative, most foggy. It's time to get it out and pray that none of anybody ever forever knows who I'm talking about. Keep in mind, though, if you must attempt to decipher who I'm talking to and/or about: I have met many males. Some experiences may echo of others, so be hesitant to jump to conclusions. I may not be praising or razing who you think I am.

I absolutely cannot believe you. Something obviously happened, maybe some chemical reaction or misunderstood message, but I can't even describe this as anger. The only thing that's rippling through me as I think of you is a longing to understand what happened that made you forget - we were such good friends, you and I. I know nobody said 'forever' but it's such a shame that it turned out to be a silent lie. I guess you're just the same kind of person that I can be... And now I know how it feels, being so helpless and confused. But the people I do this to move on faster than I am right now.
And I love you. I know I've never been able to say it to your face because sometimes it's hard to look you in the eyes. I'm not sure exactly why, but it's just so personal. Looking into your eyes is the equivalent of kissing someone - it's a level of intimacy that I can't bear a lot of the time, knowing what I know. It was like falling, that time you held my hand.
I can't thank you enough for being such a jerk to me. I was young, and I should be mad at you for taking advantage of how impressionable and in love I was, but I won't. You were young, too, and I'd rather have you teach me by making me cry a few times than having someone else teach me by being the wrong husband. You were like a training ground, and though I still hold a fascination with you, I feel pity for you. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I feel like I've grown up since we were fourteen, but I can't confidently say the same of you. How can I know, though? I don't know you anymore anyways.
I want you back.. It's not logical or noble or respectable and I can't help but judge myself for being weak. I should reflect, renew, and move on. I should accept that the future is going to flood my life with new places, people... But here and now, I want to run to you. I want to kiss you and tell you how indispensable you are to my heart and life.
What's stopping me?
Time, distance, logic.
So instead, I'll write love letters to you that you will never read. I already have a drawer full, and I don't even know if you're curious. It wouldn't help either way. I won't be free of this until I want to be, I know that - and I'm conflicted because I do and I don't. Over the next little while I will completely change as a person, but I'll still be Sarah. I wonder if these little flags with your name on it will remain in my left ventricle or not... Right now, I don't want to fall out of it. So I'll just deal with the weight of keeping all of this to myself.

You know why?
A) Because it's best
B) Because you ignore me anyways, and
C) Because we haven't talked in three years.

This is why I'm such an angsty little girl.