I QUIT WRITING!

I have known him for three years now yet all this time, just crushing on him.

Since the start of my first year, we have maintained our seating positions in class; he always sat a row in front of me. He is tall, chocolate in complexion and handsome as well; exactly what most of us ladies would often fall for. But that’s not what makes my heart pound for.

He is a sharp guy in class; always concentrating and answering questions asked very diligently. The lecturers seem to like him, in fact they often compliment his intelligence.

I remember vividly when I started crushing on him.

It was this day during the Sociological Theory Lecture when the lecturer paused his introduction to the topic to perhaps annoy us with a really tough question. “I know some of you are seated here yet you hardly know the French Sociologist who developed the Functionalist Theory, ” he said in a mocking tone. The whole class of first years buried their heads in their lockers except for the unique guy in our class. “Emile Durkheim!” He uttered. This broke the loud silence that had enveloped the whole lecture hall.

That day marked the beginning of my journey of writing letters to him.

Then I have this closet in my room where I keep everything that you would term as ‘private’ starting from my journal, my diary, my crushes list… name them. From that very first day that he answered that question that only he and the lecturer knew at that time, I wrote him a letter seeking to start class discussions with him. A nice step that was, right? But how would I get the letter delivered to him since he has never looked in my direction?

Since then, I have written a couple of letters to him inviting him for prayers, social events and indoor games which he has never shown up for since none of the letters ever got to him.

It is funny how I open up my heart in these letters only to stock them in my closet. I have become a poet overnight not because I have a gift at it but cause he made me one.

Hence today I choose to be sane again, I quit writing him letters. But wait, before I do that, I will write him one last one to invite him for a talk.