Dear Nobody

today i stared at what was once my life…how pathetic i was to blast myself and wished that someone cared. i read letters i wrote to myself boys that never cared but i gave them parts of my soul…friends that never mattered whether i was there or gone…a best friend i never thought i would lose based on “a friend of a friend” problem. i think to how many times i’ve wrote to you…when my life was so hard who did i have left to turn to…but you… nobody. all those years i wasted it kills me to see it…to read it… to relive it…every day perfectly preserved as if anyone would care to read it…i never did it to have people feel sorry for me but no other voice could i find. i never stood a chance in life my teachers are students themselves as we go along i become the responsible adult while the world around me crumbles…i get sick to my stomach when i see the people i have to surround myself with…my husband that ignores me except for sex…my best friend that lies to cover her own ass but steps on everyone to make her lies reality… the person that i despise for stealing my life i have to smile and play pleasant like i give a shit…and the person that has uninvited claim to what last bit of sanity i have shakes my heart that they carry on a chain in face just to leave again…false hope is what fuels my day anger is what wakes me up in the morning sadness is what holds me when i sleep…a wasted life is all i have to pass on for myself…just one question for you tonight…why is it so hard to let go…or better yet why did i reduce my life to pages that just show what little i have everyday, why can’t i just let them go…
thinking of you always…nobody,


I think you were alluding to the fact that I could have taken the initiative back then, which is entirely true. I liked you so much. I liked it when you looked at me with that smug, confident look. You could make me feel sexy just by looking at me. I liked it when you flirted with me for all you were worth. You could make me laugh like  no other boy could.

Except I was totally petrified.

But I never quit thinking about you. I’ve thought about you a lot in the last couple of years especially, and fantasized about how we would be together.

I look at your pictures and wonder how it feels to kiss you, to hold you and be held by you. I wonder how it feels to spoon with you, to look into your eyes without all those pretensions and so-called obstacles. I wonder how it would feel if you murmured in my ear, your hot breath on my neck. I wonder if you want these things too…

I’m so sorry.

I heard that your husband is dying.

I’m not sure what to say to you.  This makes me so uncomfortable because I desperately don’t want to say or do the wrong thing…but there is no manual for this.  Do I write?  Do I call?  Do I tell you how sorry I am?  All of this seems so trivial compared to the big picture of the man that you love waiting in a hospital room  and dying.

I’m so sorry.  I wish I could help.

How many times can I throw up in my mouth? Let’s count the times…

A, I’m so over you thinking you’re superior to me just because D ”picked” you over me. Let’s get one thing straight right now; I had D for two years. Not once but TWICE did he come begging for me to take him back. After I rejected him numerous times, that’s when he moved onto you. You inherited my sloppy seconds simply for the fact that you can’t keep your legs closed (obviously seeing how you ended up with 4 kids by 3 different dads by the age of 21). I honestly hope you are happy with your welfare, white trash life. You will amount to nothing and it makes me giddy with anticipation. So please, put your saggy boobs away and stop making out with D every chance you get. It makes me want to throw up. And I’m happier with T than I ever was with D.

p.s-D has a small “package” anyways. He’s all yours.

to a pretty pretty boy

HMMM I smile, I get those tingles i am so in search of. I like you pretty boy. I like your gorgeous changing eyes, those demples so deep and adorable. I love those abes you flaunt about and that cut muscular

I like you pretty boy. Not just because your great to look at, but because you challenge me intellectualy. You are my verbal sparing partner. I want to talk to you all the time, I want to trown you to the floor and take control. I want you to take control of me, my beautiful boy.

But you scare me so I will never actually let you hear this beautiful boy. you are aware of your looks and smarts and I feel like you would be “dateing down” actually I know you would. so pretty pretty beautiful boy I will talk and joke with you, compliment you and turn it around into an insult, and just look ocassionally let the flirting turn that sharp corner into sexual enuendoes (after all we both know vodka can do that to a girl) but i wont tell you i like you pretty boy I let you wonder if I’m just a flirty friend or you may actually get me. Because you may be just the type of guy I talk about wanting all the time to my friends but I wont call you by name you just fit the criteria and sadly I come no where near yours. Plus you are an arrogant little boy so pretty but so sexy with your confidence that I want to destroy, cofidence i want to shatter like i do to the other arrogant pretty pretty boys, but your differant. I think youe’r too pretty, but I still want you beuatiful boy.

Lustful Fool