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Letter from a student in love with her Geopolitics teacher

Honey, 

It is obvious, and if there could be one word that meant more than obvious, that would be my choice, that this letter will not be sent. However, I like to write, I like to free myself, so I write to you.
Do you even know who I am?
Yes, I know, I'm a very common case of a student in love with the teacher. 

Authority figures arouse passions.
I wanted to understand why I like you, I know partly. I really think I write here to understand the mechanisms of my mind.
Because, let's be honest, you're not handsome. And sometimes you were a little bit boring.
So liking you has nothing to do with looks. Although, you're pretty smelly, and I love a perfume.
Look, I'll be totally honest with you, I know why I fell in love with you.
You're masterly in class, you talk with passion, and I can't say that about all the teachers.
Participating in your classes is like reading a very good book, a book that you never want to leave.
The classes are Geopolitical, but what you really do is tell stories.
None of my friends understand me, they say I'm crazy.
But they don't understand stories either, to get out of ourselves, to search and search and, to find only in words what is not possible.
They don't understand. They are real, they don't live by illusion.
Other lives, other loves, lives that don't belong to us.
Others.
I like you.
Nothing matters to me but what you say.
Seventeen years is a drug. The age of almost, almost a person, but not yet. I don't want almost, I want everything. I've always wanted it.
I've been paying attention to you. I'm good at it, why is that?
The worse you dress, the better your classes, the better you talk, the more I go with you into the world.
Is that it then?
Do I like you because you show me the world?
There will always be thousands like me, but never none like me.
And I like you, you know?
It's little, but it's all I have.
Meire's laughing at me.
I'm crazy, who cares?
I write here so you know, I like you. Ugly or beautiful, rich or poor, well or badly dressed, none of it matters. I like you.
I can only write here, I can only count on those words and, of course, Meire's ears.
Then to hell with everything, I'll write. That's what I have and I'll use it.
Honey, yes, to me you're sweet.
Thank you for the trips.
Thank you for the kisses I imagined.
Thank you for the passion that I saw in your eyes and that one day I will also feel for my profession.
Thank you because you made me bigger, because I understood with you.
Thank you for showing me how good learning is.
Thank you for the teleportation that you invented, thank you for letting me participate.
Thank you for all the clothes I bought just to look beautiful for you, even though you never noticed.
Thank you for showing me that the world goes beyond this city or both of us.
Thank you for every new city I've met through you.
Thank you for the ugly clothes that made your voice shine more.
Thank you for the laughs of my colleagues when I told them I liked you.
Thank you for the short time you existed for me that, nevertheless, was a pink one.
Thank you for not caring about the looks.
Thank you for making my week worthwhile.
Thank you for making me one.
Thank you for showing me that there wasn't just one person in the world.
Thank you for saving me when I was sinking.
Thank you for giving me your best part.
Thank you for the smiles I saw on your face.
Thank you for the future I've revealed through you.
Thank you for never realizing anything.
Thank you for always being wonderful.
Thank you for knowing how to wait.
Thank you for showing me that I was right. Nothing can be better than reading a good book.
Thank you for letting me see your hand.
Thank you for showing me a way.
Thank you because I was yours without you ever knowing.
Thank you for teaching me to like the time.
Thank you because I was better with you.
Thank you for giving me the world.
That was it.
You gave me the world.
In your classes, the world was in my hands.
I'll always remember you.
With affection.
Love."


PS: I wrote this letter when I was seventeen years old, so a long, long time ago. I guess now is a good time to let it free.
 


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