Tibby started to cry. She felt ashamed, she felt like shit. She tried to do something nice, she tried to express something that said "hey, I'm here, with this cool shit because it's something we both like...", was it nicer than a letter? Geez, those letters... Those freaking letters had started chasing her ever since she wrote them... Too many feelings to express in paper, and still, they were there. She started to wonder where those letters were... Were they rubbish? Were they safe? Did they mean something to anyone, at all?
There wasn't a thing she could do but think about all that year. It had been bizar, scary, blue, terrible, and the best year of all. He had been an ass, and such a nice person. Tibby started to think he had some psycho thought: it wasn't possible that such beauty and such beast were inside the same human being... Or maybe it could be, and he was living proof. How could anyone [so sweet, nice and funny] act like a jerk and laugh at her with any man near both? Hum, too weird.
Anyway, her only sort of PDA was gone... Out of her sight, out of his, out of anyone's. Was he so ashamed of her? Could she be that awful? That much he was embarrassed? Poor Tibby! She wanted to kill him, but that stupid loving flame didn't let her.
All those beautiful moments had meant nothing to him? Not at all? Tibby was sure they had, but she didn't know how valuable they were for him. Maybe they actually meant something... But nothing too special. And she did want to feel special... Special to him, and she wasn't. She could be more special to a glass of water, seriously.
She wanted to ask him anything, she wanted an excuse to talk to him, she wanted a chocolate to give him, she wanted a cookie [yes! A chocolate cookie], she wanted it to be Tuesday or Thursday, whatever it might be... She wanted to see him, to hug him... Even the idea of kissing him ran through her head!
And she remembered nothing would ever happen. Nothing, Not at all... But God! She wasn't willing to give up that easily! She had faith, she had hope. How come? No idea, but she did. She knew that there was the possibility that he felt something indeed. Those looks, those "I can't look at you, and if I do, I drop the things I'm playing with", the fact of not killing her for the bag, the idea of trying to be brave against her in front of his friends, being shy, mean, hurtful, just another friend. Jesus, that started to make things too confusing. Too much! Things that were nice and mean [which could happen at the same moment] didn't make any sense to her.
She needed to know what was going on. She needed to know who he was into, to feel hurt and give up or to do the other way around. And she couldn't know because she didn't want to bother him at all. She loved him and cared about him too much to do such thing.
She loved him too much.
Guess that was kind of her problem.