I’m sorry for stalking you on facebook and the internet, for secretly interacting with you through your honesty box, for calling campus police on your birthday party.
I’m just jealous of you.
You’re so secure, confident, funny, stylish, outgoing and (seemingly) happy. I wish I could have been your friend, you’re such a talented writer, speaker and singer, I would do anything to be like you.
In fact, I wish I was you.
Look, I know we have been friends for 13 years, and we have never had a fight.
I know it is my fault, and I know you are right. I love you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m going to let you be mad at me for another week, and then I’m going to make it okay again. It feels good to be mad, so I figure, by me not telling you I’m sorry, it will be good for you to take out some aggression that has built up all summer due to your a-hole boyfriend. I can take it.
You can be mad at me.
I’m still going to love you.
love to deck you in the face.
You are no friend of mine. I just want to move on with my life, but for whatever reason you attempt to start shit. I’m done with you.
I don’t talk to you, you don’t talk to me.
I’m happy with my life. I got my boy, I got my family, I have my friends that I talk to. I like to spend time with J, and his friends, but I’m not going to go out of my way for anyone else, truly. If you don’t get the hint about me not wanting to be your friend anymore you’re pretty dense.
Don’t get all bitchy because I gave up on you, because you aren’t a good friend. It’s not like you were ever there for me.
Dear those reading this letter, and many others. and those who are writing letters too.
I want to inspire, I want to make you smile. I want to think of something raw and beautiful to show life to those who can only see dark and pain.
I don’t know what words to say, I want to act upon these thoughts in my daily life, and make just one person feel meaningful. Because you are. We all are, whatever God we believe in or don’t, whatever gender, sexuality, whatever weight and eye color.
I want to make everyone see, that there is more than meets the eye in this life, and we can all make someone feel significant.
Dear mom and Dad,
I really hate how you expect me, your daughter, to look after your youngest child. Did you forget that I was the one who offered, putting aside my plans to go out of state for college? Did you forget that you offered to pay me, in the beginning, but when chips were down I didn’t expect any money? Do you forget that I’m an adult?
Yes. I could tell by how dad snapped at me for only telling him last minute that I was going to hang out with friends. Got mad at me for not telling him sooner, since he’s tired and not prepared to look after his own daughter.
Then why did you decide to have another kid?
Yes. I know because you’ve never offered to pay me unless I’m absolutely broke, and now that I have money, you made me pay you back for my school books, even though it cost less than what you were going to offer me monthly. Even though it’s nothing compared to how much I put in to watching my sister.
Yes. You treated me like a slut for being the only girl at a boy’s party, even when I slept in my own room and was under parental supervision at all times. Even when I’ve never dated anyone in all my life, haven’t even held anyone else’s hand. Even though I’m nineteen years old.
we’re so far apart right now.
the distance makes it difficult to spend quality time together. *sigh* i think it wouldn’t be so difficult if i knew we had a future. if it were me, we would. all i’m doing is waiting for you to decide our future. for now, i’m trying to be patient and not rush things.
i can’t wait for you to come home, maybe we can talk about this in person. i love you.