To the girl of my dreams (******** ******)

After the tests I've seen you only once, for a second, and that wasn't even in the classroom 'cause I haven't seen you there at all. And that frightens me so much: you didn't also quit your study, did you?

In case I never see you again, I'm gonna try to write down my feelings for you. And it's not like that's an easy thing to do. So please don't think that someone is pulling a prank on you, 'cause just hurting someone, especially you, is the last thing I would want to do.

How hard it is for me to write this, you'll probably never understand. But maybe it says something that it took me 15 minutes just to type the beginning. Not because I'm such a slow typer, but because when I'm typing this it feels just like I'm telling you this to your face.

(Phrases like "Not because I'm such a slow typer" are one of the reasons that I'm telling you this through such a detour in stead of just face to face: whenever I get a little serious, I somehow "scare" myself and then I automatically say something stupid so all the seriousness is completely gone. Sorry for this interruption.)

Another reason is that I'm just much too shy, a fact which has cost me many things in my life (those last 8 words are not exactly what I mean, but I don't know how to say it in English. I hope you know what I mean). And there's yet another reason: I don't know if you already have a boyfriend, or if maybe you think of me as some stupid jerk, and if that would be the case then I would totally make a complete fool of myself and then maybe I'd never have the guts to say something like this again. Yeah, this is the first time that I "dare" (kind of a big word) to "talk" (also kind of a big word) about my feelings like this. And that bothers me a little, 'cause at the university I've already noticed that there is someone who does have the guts to approach you and start a conversation. While I didn't even dare to say more than "Hi" to you at the lustral feast (November 19, see The Story), where I was under the influence of all sorts of things (drugs).

I can hardly believe that I'm still typing, 'cause it's a day has passed after the previous paragraph, and when I'm thinking about this text during the day, then I can hardly believe that I'm actually writing this. And when I read trough what I have written until now, I "frighten" myself again. I wonder how much espresso I'm gonna need to finish this letter, which will take at least a few days (nights) (besides, I'll have to get to know your e-mail address, so a lot of time will have passed before you read this (if I can make you read this at all (maybe it turns out that you haven't quit your study? that you were just studying at home?))). During the day I also find out that actually I hardly know you. Then I wonder: how is it possible that I can write about my feelings so outspoken? I think it's because you talk and smile so sweet and because you're just you, and don't act like "I'm beautiful and (therefor) out of your reach."

By the way, I've noticed that writing down your feelings really helps at dealing with the pain. It's getting a little better, although I think the pain will get worse again when it's Monday and I still don't see you at the university.

What also bothers me: On one hand I'm trying to hide my identity, but on the other hand, I would be devestated if you thought I'm someone else. I'd love to say a few names of people who I'm not, but I'm afraid that then I would make too clear who I am.

It's now the night from Monday to Tuesday. This morning I overslept and missed the first class, so I don't know if you were there. But I didn't see you all day, so the spark of hope gets smaller and smaller. On the way home, in the bus, I listened to the radio, as always. Suddenly I understand that song by Hero (it's pronounced different and doesn't mean anything in Dutch, so it has nothing to do with a hero - it's just a name), I have no idea what it's called but I know it's from a movie. And other sad songs, which I usually turn off right away, make me feel something now. Enough to keep listening to them. Somehow in a strange way I feel better now while listening to such music; that used to be the other way round. "Being in love makes you wiser," I read in some magazine a few days ago. Now I think I know what they ment; I've discovered feelings inside of me of which I didn't even know I had them at first. Even if Excelsior (soccer club located next to the university; they play in the First Division (the second-highest division), are very "little" (qua everything) and I don't think they ever won a prize in their whole existence) beat PSV (big soccer club, they've been Dutch, European and World champions several times and have won many prizes throughout the years (they're usually called "PSV Eindhoven" in other countries) tomorrow night (those two clubs had to play against eachother in the Dutch Cup), that will only improve my mood for a day or two, while normally it would do that for at least a week. Whenever I felt a bit unhappy, that used to be over the next day. But now it starts all over every day, every morning when I wake up. I sure hope it passes one day, 'cause if it goes on like this a little longer, I really can't deal with it anymore (by the way, I don't think that's only because of your departure).

There's no doubt that I will think of some beautiful things to say after I sent this message, when it's already too late. The text may seem a little chaotic, and maybe there are some horrible spelling errors in it, and some phrases will sound a bit hackneyed, but I tried to describe my feelings as precise as possible and often I couldn't handle reading through it again. I sure hope that you still go to the university, so at least you'll have the same e-mail address. Of course I don't know if you ever check your e-mail at all, but I've seen you mailing sometime so I still have a little hope for that. Also I unfortunately don't know if I can get to know your e-mail address. All these things make it quite doubtful if you'll ever read this one day. If you read it, then please respond to it. You really don't have to type anything; just an empty e-mail would already make me so happy 'cause then at least I know you read it. (Was I wrong about that....) Until that time I can only hope you'll read this one day, and thereby get to know how special you are to me and that you're a very sweet (I'm almost sure about that) and beautiful (I'm definitely sure about that) girl. Please think about that when you're feeling blue sometime.

It's now the night from Wednesday to Thursday. Excelsior have been crushed, and there's not much left either of the hope that you'll return. Luckily I found out your e-mail address today. I hope it's still active and that you'll read this one day. Before I get the idea to change certain hackneyed phrases, I'll just send this to you right away. Realising that writing down my feelings has made me feel "cleaned up inside," but not any less unhappy, which I did hope for. I can only hope that time will also heal this wound. And that at least I see you walk by every once in a while.

Lots of guys "complain" that there are so little cuite girls in our class. I think you can come up with the next sentence yourself.

You don't know what you've "got" 'til it's gone.