In time, the hurt began to fade and it was easier to just let it go. At least I thought it was. But in every boy I met in the next few years, I found myself looking for you, and when the feelings got too strong, I'd write you another letter. But I never sent them for fear of what I might find. By then, you'd gone on with your life and I didn't want to think about you loving someone else. I wanted to remember us like we were that summer. I didn't ever want to lose that.
"Do you ever wonder whether people would like you more or less if they could see inside you? I always wonder about that. If people could see me the way I see myself—if they could live in my memories—would anyone, anyone, love me?"
even the back of his head is attractive someone explain
Dean Winchester in 9.18 Meta Fiction
it’s so hard hiding the truth from your friends…