Unsent Letters

Dear Tiffany,

I know we don’t talk very often.  Maybe we should talk more.  But you made me feel better tonight when I was scared I was going to cry my eyes out.  I love you.

Your friend,

Fefe

Dear Christina,

I wish you would come home.  I know you’ll be back tomorrow night, but I miss you a lot, and I don’t know what to do without you.

Yeah, yeah.  You didn’t think I’d miss you, all the way across the state, but I do.  Even if I do like having extra space in our room.

Your very lonely sister,

Felize

Dear Trevor,

You stupid fucker.  Fucking call me, you stupid fucking fucker.  I’m fucking sick of waiting for your fucking phone calls.  You fucking say that you’ll call.  You fucking PROMISED that you’d fucking be my friend.

WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT?

I really hate you right now, you stupid fucker.  I hate you.  I hate you.

Fuck.  I thought I could trust you.  I thought you liked me.  I fucking loved you, and you just turn your back on me.

Wait.  Never mind.  I LOVE you.  Not past tense.  Present tense.  I know it, any body who actually cares about me knows it, and people who don’t care about me know it.  I fucking LOVE YOU, and you don’t give a flying fuck.

I hate you.  Mostly because I love you so much.

I’m so stupid.  I thought that you were different.  I thought you were better than Jon.  You aren’t.  You’re just as much of a jerk as he was.  I hate you.  I fucking hate you.  Why are you such a jerk?  Why did you laugh at things that might just possibly make me happy?

You know, just because some people don’t believe in God’s unconditional love doesn’t mean that none of us do.  I do.  Sometimes it’s the only reason I feel like I belong anywhere.  Because at least I know God loves me and gave me a purpose.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  I hate you.

Your rather displeased non-friend,

Feliza

Nine Months

Today means nine months for me and my darling.

=]

I was quite happy.  I dressed up all pretty, and put on makeup.  I looked quite nice, really.

Monday-Thursday-Sunday

My Confession

This is my confession: I hate you.

I hate you violently.  I hate you with passion.  I hate you, at this moment, with every fiber of my personal being.  I wish you would disappear.  I wish you never existed.  I wish everything between you and I had never existed.  Every phone call, lunch, everything we did, every word that was said, I want it gone, trashed, burned.

I wish your memories would just be blown away.

I hate all that you stand for in my mind: the backstabbing, the fact that trust is fragile as glass and can never be put back to its original perfection.  I hate that you destroyed my trust.  I hate that you lied to me.  In fact, I hate every word you said to me until the end, because everything you said to me in every conversation was a living lie.

You said you loved me.  You said “you are my only one”.  You said you wanted to marry me.  You said eleven more years, only eleven years, eleven years to be happy before the rest of our lives.  You told me I was the most important thing in your life.  You said you could never bring yourself to break up with me.  You LIED and you knew you were lying when you did it.

And you know what?  I hate you for lying.

It’s taken me forever to finally see that you are NOT worth more than me.  I’m a person, just the same as you!  Why couldn’t you recognize that?  Why didn’t you treat me like I was worthy of you?  Why didn’t you act like I was worth your friendship?

Why did you lie to me?

I don’t care about you.  I love you and I always will, but I just don’t care.  I hate your lies and I hate that you hurt me.

Do you know what you did to me?  Do you understand how much you hurt me?  Trevor told me tonight that he would never trade me for someone else.  He said that he loved me.  He said “you are my one and only”.  And you know what I did?  I couldn’t say anything.  But then I could.  And I said “Trevor?  You’re scaring me.”

I am so afraid now.  Afraid that if I trust him, he’ll turn on me just like you did.  I don’t want to be hurt again.  Do you know what the hell kind of therapy I’m going to need?  I mean, it’s not like I can just up and cut myself like rest of the nation!  I won’t chop off all my hair like some people do when they’re depressed.  I won’t beat anybody up.  I won’t go scream angry songs in front of raving, drug-ravaged crowds.  I can’t take boxing or martial arts or even go to a freaking therapist!  All I can do is write and try to figure out how the HELL I’m going to start trusting somebody I should because he is worth a hundred times what you are.