All That I've Got

A Hey Arnold! HelgaXArnold Fanfiction

Disclaimer:I unfortunately do not own Hey Arnold!, the show is the property of the amazing Craig Bartlett. If I did own the show, The Jungle Movie and The Patakis would have been made.

Hey everyone! HA!'s been my favorite show since like, forever, and HelgaXArnold always was and will forever be my most beloved OTP, mainly because my life while growing up was pretty much exactly like Helga's. I too have an Arnold and, despite the geographical distance separating us and how long it's been since we've seen each other, I still think of him every day. And so, because of this and to "celebrate" nine years of heartache, I've decided to do what I've thought of and been wanting to do for ages: write a Hey Arnold! Helga-centric fanfiction. This is basically my take on "The Patakis". Helga has a microsoft document full of emails or "letters" to Arnold which she's always wanted to send him without ever actually having the guts to do it. It's something I've also done (and am still currently doing) so, hopefully, I'll be able to succesfully communicate her feelings. This'll either be a one-shot or a continued story, depending on how popular it is. Anyway, enough talking, hope you like it!

"When I wake up, I'm afraid somebody else might take my place." - The Neighborhood

I miss you.

All the time, every day, and every second.

It's insane, you know, how I feel about you: I mean, we were in preschool for darn sake, and yet I fell madly, hopelessly, insanely ga-ga head-over-heels in love with you the second I saw you.

The second you shielded me from the rain with your umbrella, when you were there for me when no one else was.

Treated you like crap, though. It didn't just mess me up even more, it also messed you up, and even though some part of you always knew there was more to me than my tough, cruel exterior, there were times when you truly despised me.

And through all of those times, even when you fell for other girls, I loved you.

Then came that field trip. The time we saved your parents, the time I finally confessed once again. I mean, I'd done it once before that, when you had saved the neighborhood like the prince in shining armor and wonderfully irritating goody-two-shoes you are, but that time didn't really count. After all, I did retract what I'd said.

But to go back to the one and only confession that mattered, to my biggest surprise, you'd come to feel the same way about me. I, Helga G. Pataki, the girl who's tormented you and bullied you for years, I somehow managed to communicate through all of that enough of my mushy interior that you were willing to give me a chance and, before you knew it, you began to slowly realize that you loved me too. I can't tell you how that made me feel, happiness doesn't do it justice: I was freaking ecstatic.

You were my universe, Arnold. And today, I guess you're merely my world, or maybe part of me is still in denial and you remain the most important thing to have been created by stardust in my eyes, or by whatever Creator might be the right one, if Creator there is.

You're my everything, Arnold. My religion, my obsession...

And yet we broke up. Whose fault was that? Both of our faults, I believe. It was mostly me. I was just so freaking terrified, so paralyzed by the mere thought of losing you, that I started being harsh towards you again. When I wasn't busy being cruel towards you, I'd apologize again and again and constantly seek reassurance that you did indeed care. You'd of course try to reassure me up as best as you could, but it simply wasn't enough. I then began to understand that this couldn't work, it simply couldn't, because you sincerely cared about me, but you didn't Love me with a capital "L", you didn't see me as the epitome of everything in the same way that I saw you.

As if that weren't enough, there was Gerald worrying you, what not with his constant hanging out with the wrong crowd, making you worry that, despite his reassuring words, he'd go bad too. Phoebe shared your fear, heck, she still shares it to this day. Tall-hair boy ain't getting any better.

I'm so pathetic. I mean, look at me, writing letters in thin air on a Microsoft Word document for the boy I fell hopelessly in love with ten years ago. I mean, criminey! I'm freaking sixteen, and I still worship the mere thought of you. You moved away two years ago now, and heck knows how much I wished, hoped, begged that your absence would help the devotion go away, but it didn't. It's no longer destructive, insane, obsessive and passionate, but it's still just as consuming.

It's even more terrifying, in a way, because what I feel now is some sort of calm, unconditional love for you. I feel like I could wake up by your side for the rest of my days and never tire of it. I love everything about you, Football-head, even the things which annoy me to the point of driving me completely nuts!

At first, I couldn't even look at other guys, you know that? They left me vastly indifferent, to the point where I thought my capacity to feel attraction for other dudes was indefinitely broken or tied to you in some way. That's changed. I can appreciate good-looking individuals nowadays, but the thing is, I don't care any more than that, mainly because of their personality. They're all freaking idiotic jocks for the most part. Those immature losers have got nothing on you.

I wonder how you're doing, my wonderful, golden-haired prince, my Apollo, my love. Is your schoolwork progressing just fine? Do you still dream of becoming a pilot someday? Are your parents doing alright and are things still going well between you guys?

Do you ever think about me?

...

Do you ever miss me?

I certainly do. As I've said previously, I think about you every day. I stopped dreaming of you though, at least, I no longer do it every day. That's good, because it was getting creepy when I got past 352 times, I'll be honest. Yes, even for me, that was just getting excessive.

I wish I could see you again or talk to you. I wish I could hear your voice just once and tell you how I feel. I wish you were able to listen, and I wish things hadn't gotten so complicated between us. I'm sorry that I've started all this, but you have to understand: I just had too much of a good thing, and I didn't know what to do with it. The key to paradise had been handed over to me by God or Cupid himself, and I was left with the sole responsibility of keeping the most sacred of places eternally kept.

And of course, what did I do?

I destroyed it. And, in the process, I destroyed myself as well.

Cheesy, I know. Heh, sometimes when I'm not on "romance" mode, I read myself over and I scowl. I tell myself that I shouldn't be like this I mean, I'm Helga G. Pataki! The mean, rude, bossy girl who used to terrorize her entire freaking school!

Now I'm just another troubled teen stuck in high school. Still not prissy or anything, though. That's for suckers like Princess Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. Speaking of which, you'll never believe this but, I've actually gotten around to hanging out with Curly every now and then. We console each other over our mutual, devouring obsessions and messed up love lives.

You'll never read this message, and I couldn't be glader. You'll never know just how much I miss when you'd frown and scrunch that button-like nose of yours, how I wish I could lose my hands in the wonderfully precious golden-heaven that is your hair, how I wish my senses could turn amok just because I happened to brush you or because your scent lingered in the air.

Why did we break up, Arnold? I remember the feel of your lips against mine, how awkward you were the first times you'd try to lean in for a kiss and how I'd always make fun of you, making you blush in the process; I remember how your eyes had that soft, tender glow whenever I showed my true, softer side to you. I can still feel the electrizing sensation paralyzing my skin the first time you placed your hand in mine.

So, again: why? Is it truly because, as teenagers usually are, we'd both become messed up? Or is it because you had to move that you chose to break it off? Did you seriously think that I wouldn't wait for you? Knowing how annoyingly pragmatic, good-hearted and reasonable you can be, I assume you thought that it was more logical and better for me in the long run if we both were to break up, rather than for us to go through the hardship of a long-distance relationship.

But now, not only do I feel those harships, I also don't have the satisfaction, the reassurance of knowing that I can talk to you if need be, that you're alright. Now, because of this, I can't help but doubt whether you ever did truly care for me. Because of this, every day, I wonder if you've finally moved on or if today's the day: the day that you'll meet and fall for some other girl. Someone sweeter, someone prettier, kinder, smarter, someone perfect, much in the same way as you.

Anyway, this is pointless, and it's getting late. Gotta go sleep. Heh, you always did frown on my sleeping habits, studious worry-wart that you are.

Essay to write tomorrow so, I'll be on my way.

Nighty night, Football-head.

I love you.

Yours eternally,

Helga G. Pataki

This crappy word file is gonna become my freaking diary, or like some sort of catharsis where I pour out my hearts, feelings, and desire to talk to a guy I haven't seen in years and for whom I fell in love with in freaking preschool. If that's not depressing, I don't know what is.

Well that's all for now. Hope you all liked it :) don't forget to fav and comment to tell me if you'd like me to continue! - CB~