You Will Never Know

a short story

You will never know that my mind drifts to you frequently, against my will, against my better judgement. That you consume my dreams certain nights of the week. That I wonder what you’re doing. Who you’re doing.

You will never know that I wish you would text me. I wish it was like before when you payed me so much attention and I pretended not to notice. Those warm nights where you would act so nonchalant, so I would follow suit.

You will never know that I think you are a bad person. That you are arrogant and cruel and selfish.

You will never know that I miss your touch. It was rare and unfrequented, but it made me giddy and high. And I wonder what it would be like to kiss you. To be pressed against you, holding your arm and running my fingers down the back of your neck.

You will never know that I hated when you would compliment me. How shallow your words felt when you told me I was a good person; that I deserved so much.

You will never know that I wish those compliments were even shallower. I wish you told me I was beautiful. That my body was what you wanted every night. That my skin was soft and my hands small. That I deserved so little from you, or anyone else. I wish you made me feel insignificant in so many ways.

You will never know that I resent the fact that I know so much about you. I wish I didn’t. I wish I could forget.

You will never know that I don’t regret drunkenly pushing you into the corner of that room. The one where I told you I knew all of your secrets. That one room where after we left, it was never the same.

You will never know that I haven’t thought of anyone else the way I’ve thought of you.

You will never know any of this.

You will never know any of this because I will never tell you. I will never tell you because you don’t deserve me. And even though I think you don’t deserve me, I want you. I want you so badly.