Dear Male Friend,
I’ve really enjoyed these past few years of our correspondence. I realize we never got it right when we saw each other every week. We never clicked in real life.
But in cyberspace? We meshed so well.
I understand now that I became infatuated with you a while back, when I started having dreams about you. In the dreams you mostly had cameo appearances, but there was this one dream in which you got handy with me on a couch in front of a room full of people and I woke up sweaty and hot…but I digress.
To this day, I don’t know if I ever truly liked you, or if I thought I liked you because of the fact that you were the only male I talked to with such frequency and in such a private way. I tried to limit our contact, recognizing my dependence. But I missed the times we talked. You always made me laugh.
I know you are a horny teenage boy. I know that you probably text multiple girls the same message you text me. I know that you tried to establish the same relationship that we have with my best friend. And it pisses me off. It makes me want to hurt you. It makes me want to push you against a wall, in the dirt, then kiss your neck like I’ve always wanted to. It makes me immensely sad. It makes me want to think maybe I’m the special one. That maybe you dream about me sometimes,too.
Even though I’ve written this letter I’ll never send to you, I’m still kind of angry. I want to say that I’m going to keep talking to you. But I also want to tell you to fuck yourself.