• What was I thinking?

    by  • August 29, 2010 • 2 Comments

    I cannot explain what I was thinking. I know every girl has a guy that she runs to when things are not going well with her main squeeze.

    But I couldn’t have chosen anyone worse than you. Your name, memory and any reminders of you make me sick.

    I thought I was clear when I said I didn’t want to hear from you anymore.

    Never contact me again.

    Happy Now?

    by  • August 29, 2010 • 0 Comments

    Dear Dad,
    You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard an encouraging word from you. Mom tells me she loves me all the time, and even my spiteful sisters do as well when the occasion hits. But never you. Have you realized what that’s done to me over the years. I remember, back when I didn’t notice that you were never encouraging, I was such a lovely person. All humility aside, I was great to get along with. I laughed all the time and was always up for new things. But now that I’ve discovered that you never say you love me, I’ve become someone different. Someone who can’t come out of her shell. Someone who is afraid to open up to those she knows. I don’t have any friends. And that’s not a dramatization. I don’t talk anymore, so people just stopped talking to me. Thank you, for never encouraging me and for letting me feel unworthy and not-deserving of you love. Are you happy now? Unfortunately,

    Crazy is an understatement.

    by  • August 28, 2010 • 0 Comments

    We’ve only started talking this past summer, and I honestly don’t regret any of it. What I do regret, is developing feelings for you. I knew from the beginning that I shouldn’t, and I told myself I wouldn’t. 11 people have pointed out that we flirt, so why do we continue it? You couldn’t possibly want me, you’ve been with her for 16 months. You don’t want me and I know it, but something inside of me can’t help but be jealous when you talk about her. You only see her because of school… You could see me as much as you wanted, and you know it. You say the word and I’m there. You seem so excited when I tell you that someone was all over me… when what I really want is for you to… well, thats the thing, you can’t do anything. I think that’s what hurts the most.

    You’ve sat there and told me that you saved her life once. You don’t know how many times you’ve saved mine. I love being with you, and spending all day with you. I love webcamming with you until we both pass out and I get to wake up in the morning with you still on my screen, fast asleep. I love your dumb, empty threats to tickle me til I turn blue when we both know you won’t, but it’s an excuse for you to touch me. I wanted you to kiss me on so many occasions, but I know that you never will. I know that we can never be together. You love her, not me. But I can’t help but to love you anyway. I’ve been suppressing it for so long, this is the first time that I have openly admitted it to anyone or anything.

    I am angry at myself for letting this happen, for letting my feelings go this far; but i am proud of myself for not acting on what my mind keeps telling me to do. “Kiss him, Kiss him, Kiss him” Thats all I think about when I’m with you, and if I ever did, I’m sure the result of it would be cataclysmic. I don’t know what to do with myself.

    You drive me crazyy.

    I hope you understand…

    by  • August 28, 2010 • 0 Comments

    Please tell me that you have even the slightest hint of an idea of how much you’re hurting me. The things you say you want to do to me… they hurt. You think that they’re good. You’re enjoying them and you think that I am too, but really I feel like i’m dying inside.

    Don’t you know how young and fragile I am? Don’t you know what I’ve been through? It’s only been six months since they died, and you think that I’ve bounced back. They were my first. Their hands were the first to touch my body, and mine were the first to touch theirs. That was only nine months ago.

    I hope that you know how much it hurts when you describe what you want to do to me, and I hope that you know that there’s a reason for me pushing you away, telling you that I’m not in the mood.

    Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever be in the mood for you. I know that one day I’ll be in the mood for somebody, but right now I’m still trying to get over him, because even though I tell you that I love you every night, I will always love him more.


    by  • August 28, 2010 • 1 Comment

    She makes me happy. She’s sweet and kind and smart and special in so many ways. She’s independent and beautiful. She doesn’t judge me. She’s got her problems, sure, but doesn’t everyone? She works through them and never looks down on me when I make mistakes. She’s the complete opposite of the one you thought was so perfect for me. If you can’t accept the fact that I’ve fallen for a fellow female, then I guess this where we part because no matter how wrong you think it is, I love her and some day, I will marry her.

    Keep in touch, Daddy.

    Love forever and for always,

    Everything embarrassing that I think about

    by  • August 28, 2010 • 0 Comments

    The other day when I told you I wrote a poem, it was about you. We were friends in school, but then I left and didn’t talk to you for about 2 years. I liked you throughout college, but was afraid to be close to you because I had a boyfriend. You know this, though. You know that I have a huge embarrassing crush on you, and that every time we hang out I wish I could kiss you. I know you can feel it.

    It sucks, you know? Because I’m not used to liking someone who just does not have any interest in me in that way. I can see that when we make eye contact, and you know I want to kiss you, you look back at me like you’re bored of the fact that this always happens. I feel like the biggest dork.

    I like you a whole lot. I think it’s neat hearing about all your problems and anxieties and your worries about school and art and life because I think the same things. I worry about the same things. And it’s comforting, actually.

    I like you because you like Maine, and you like stormy weather, and you always wear a flannel shirt and ridiculous tight jeans, and your dumb v neck shirts (yeah, I even like those), and your old black hat that you lost, and your messy hair, and your huge dark eyes, and your quiet, almost toneless voice, and your awkwardness with meeting people. I like that you like old country songs. I like that one time you let me borrow a Dvorak record. I like how you said you would come visit me even though I didn’t expect you to want to. I like that you want to swim out to an island and camp on it. With me. I like your lightweight lack of tolerance for alcohol. I like how you like punk music and I still don’t, but it’s endearing in the ways that you said it always is for everyone. I like that you talk about sex so much.