An open letter to the one who’s out of my league


Those eyes, the way you look at me. Damn them.

Every time you look at me, I feel a million things. I feel like glitter is exploding inside me. I feel like you’re stripping down my soul without my permission. I feel violated, but also consenting.

Those lips, the way you speak to me. Damn them.

Your words make me feel uneasy, each syllable you speak sends me on a roller coaster of emotions. Sometimes I’m on a high, other times on a low. I go up and down, over and under, making me feel all weird inside.

I knew what this weird feeling inside me was called and the thing is, I’ve always known this feeling was doomed from the start. I knew that this was going to be a one-way street, and that these feelings will be left unreciprocated. That’s why I’ve secretly been building walls around my heart from you. I hoped it would save me from the inevitable pain that’s about to come, but somehow you managed to tear through those walls, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

My feelings kept bubbling up inside me and before I knew it, I found my heart struck by cupid’s arrow. You had my heart, before the both of us even realized it. I fell in love with you, and it breaks my heart every time because I know for a fact that you are someone who’s out of my league.

You’re the North star, while I lived in the South.
You loved the ocean, but I was the desert.
You were killing me, but I was saving you.
I was the brightest sunflower, but you preferred thorny roses.
I was sugar, but you liked your coffee black.
I was your cure, but you were my disease.

We are two souls in the same universe who could never be together, and I guess the hopeless romantic part of me hoped that being out of your league wouldn’t be that much of a big deal—that maybe, just like in the movies, we could still work. But it was all just wishful thinking and mindless dreaming, because it will never be—because we could never be.

Look at us.
Look at you.
Look at me.

You’d never pick me in a thousand years. I’m just not that person to you.

Here I am, voicing out my long-kept thoughts, still desperately hoping I could change your mind and heart with this letter. But of course, I know how this story ends because by now I’m so used to this kind of ending. I’m that foolish hopeless romantic who will never have their happy ending despite always believing in fairy tales.

If I could, I’d change overnight and turn into something you’d like, but that would mean I won’t be true to my heart, wouldn’t it? I can’t afford that. If someone will love me, they must love me as I am. And so, I’m forever stuck loving you from afar, fantasizing about how I’m the one you needed.

Not being with the person you love isn’t even the saddest part of our story.

The saddest part is waking up every day knowing that I’m clinging onto my fairy tales until the price for believing in them becomes too high to pay.

The saddest part is knowing I’d have to let go of you and of my feelings for you without you ever knowing about them.

The saddest part is knowing that the love I have for you is something I’ll carry with me to my grave and is something that you will live the rest of your days without.

The saddest part is knowing that your world will go on turning and it will be filled with the joy that you could never experience from me and from what I have to offer.

Still, the heart wants what it wants. And my heart wants to love someone like you, however out of my league you may be.


picsart_12-04-08-1086842496.pngHolden Dagooc is a proud feminist and considers himself a paragon of what it means to be a Scorpio. He is a regular contributor in The Diarist Projects. Check out his other works here.


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