To someone I do not know, nobody in particular, this letter is addressed to you merely because its easier to talk openly to a complete stranger. So, um, here it is. If it even is anything. I fucked up AGAIN. I’m SORRY, I honestly don’t know how I manage to screw up everything thats good. This time I don’t know what to do. Fuck fuck fuck! There is NOBODY I know that I can tell. There is NOTHING anybody could possibly do to help. This is my mess and I’ve got to find a way to fix it. Somehow.

I don’t know what to do anymore.  Because this always happens to me. I thought I’d grown up, but I obviously haven’t.  I say I hate you, but you know I don’t.  I really don’t.  I think that I just like you so much sometimes, and I really care about what you have to say about me.  But then the other half of the time I honestly want to kill you- you annoy me so much.   And I think that it’s every little thing you do that isn’t the way you do perfectly in my mind makes me hate you more.  I’ve got this idea of you in my head, and I don’t know who I’m kidding.  For God’s sake, you’re odd.  You are like a robot, and I never know what you’re thinking.  So what  I mean to say is that I’m sorry.  And I probable owe you more apologies than I can count, and I’m sorry.  It’s just hard for me.  I’ve never been that good at dealing with this type of thing.  So for now I’ll try to play nice and I’ll try to think of you and love you as my friend, flaws and all.  And go ahead, do what you want- I know what happened between you two, and I trust you to do the right thing.  Don’t break her heart, cause she really deserves better than that.  I really do trust you.

Love,

Me

I’m not perfect. I’m not pretty. I spend forever on my hair and makeup and still look awful. I’m short. I’m pale. I’m shy. Maybe that’s why you don’t like me. You’re so kind and so easy to talk to, and even though you don’t seem like that type of person, I just can’t help but think that you’d be embarrassed to be seen together with me.

It’s not fair to tell you this, but I love you. I really do. You’re graduating in 13 days, and that scares me to death. You’re gonna go to college & meet some other girl who will mean way more to you, but until then I’m here. I’ll be here until you tell me to leave.

We’ve had our rough patches, but we’re stronger then ever now.

When we started, you scared me, having dated more girls and being more experienced than I. But you proved patient with me and let me take my time trusting you with both my body and my heart. Today, we had sex for what was, for me, the first time in my life, though I know for you, it was just your first time with me. And still, you were kind and gentle but also full of the fire and passion I always see inside of you. Your patience and willingness to wait made me feel so comfortable with you. I know you waited a long time for me, but now I feel like I’m floating on the clouds. And seeing your smile before, during, after, and having you make sure I was alright - it meant the world to me. Your skin on mine - there is nothing like that.

I love you so much. Please, let your talk of marrying me one day be real. Please, stay with me forever.

With love,
Me.

And in that moment in time she had never wanted anyone more than she wanted him. And she didn’t understand the sharp newly spring feelings that washed over her, consuming her thoughts and twisting them, leaving her speechless and tounge-tied, despite his attempts to persuade her to talk about it. Nothing made sense that night other than the two of them together, a secret never to be told.

If someone where to ask me at this young age of eighteen what the worst feeling in the world is I’d have to say when you’re deeply in love with someone and you develop feelings for someone else. Not wanting to do anything about it and wishing you could climb into a portal that leads to a world where feelings are simpler.

I’m furious at myself. I’m mad at you for not stopping me. I’m mad at myself for not wanting you to stop.

I feel like I barely know you anymore.

You bailed on me to go to his hearing? The kid who hurt one of our friends, who lies, who tried to get with you and me…and then got caught trafficking marijuana and LSD. And you went to his hearing with the school…instead of going with me to an event you said you’d go to, days ago. Imagine my surprise, getting there and getting that text that you didn’t think you would make it. An hour before, you told me you’d meet me. And now, when we were supposed to be having our last beer and pizza night, I’m sitting here, doing homework and eating apples, because that’s what I do when I’m alone.

I really dislike her. I dislike that she pressured me into birth control, into talking to Spencer again. For ruining my relationship with my brother, for tearing down my friendship with you because you changed. I hate that she made Spencer hate me, because she told him about what happened on Saturday…when it wasn’t her story to tell. It was none of your business…kind of like that hearing you went to, right? And you always say you like to stay out of things that don’t concern you…looks like a contradiction to me.

I miss my best friend, who I could talk to about anything. Who went to The Shelter with me that night, so I could spend time with Joe. But now? I can sit in the same room as that girl I used to know, and not know what to say, because she looks like she’s five feet away, but she feels like she’s across an ocean that I couldn’t even begin to cross.

I can’t wait for summer, in hopes that maybe we’ll have a chance to repair our relationship. But I’m not holding my breath for that. Sure, we can be friends, but I’m definitely going to be cautious about the things I do with you. After everything lately, I’m not sure trusting you is that great of an idea. 

- your roommate and girl who used to be your best friend…

I want to buy a house with you.

I want to fill that house with our furniture - your shitty couch and stolen armchair, the one that’s falling apart, and my dozens of bookcases and those kitchen knives that you refuse to discuss, the ones that are way too sharp. I want your X-Box next to mine, I want to mix our DVD collections together.

I want to go grocery shopping with you, and laugh my ass off when you nag at me about not shopping organic, and listen to you debate the difference between Dave’s Killer Bread and “people bread”. I want to find out what kinds of food you eat at three in the morning.

I want to stay up late, writing essays with you, even though it’s the night before they’re due, because you and I, we’re procrastinators to the core, but that’s okay. I want to laugh with you about classes, and bitch about professors, and hold your hand whenever we have a free moment during finals week.

I want to sleep with you. Not in a sexy sort of way - we do that already, and don’t get me wrong, it’s fantastic - but in a quiet, your-arm-over-my-waist sort of way, our-legs-tangled-together-at-the-knees-and-ankles sort of way. I want to find out how you wake up in the morning. I want to be able to reach over in the dead of night and know, with absolute certainty, that my fingers will be able to reach you.

I want to meet your family. I want you to meet mine.

I want to have dogs in our house, and maybe a kid. I want to make you birthday cakes until your hair is grey and my tattoos are faded. I want to write you sappy love-letters in french, and tease you about your nerdy love affair with psychology.

I want to wrap my life around yours.

Just so you know.