I look back to letter #2 and I wonder how I could’ve written about you with such optimism. I called you one of my “closest friends.” Yeah, right.

I’ve dedicated too many letters to you already. I hope this is the last one.

All I can say now is… you disgust me. You’re also one of the most idiotic people I’ve ever met. What do you not understand about the words “I want to stop?”

I regret giving you the chance to use me, objectify me, play me. I regret not stopping you sooner. I regret (just a little bit) what it’s done to our friendship.

Yesterday we were listening to your iPod and you played all the songs we’ve showed each other over the past years. Memories came flooding back. It’s sad, because at times I can see glimpses of the past, those moments when we got along swell.

But I’ve finally learned. No matter how close we get, eventually you’ll always fuck it up. A small part of me is glad that this has happened, because now I know to never let you in again.

I feel disgusting. I feel cheated. I feel stupid.

I disregarded my morals for you. I became something I said I would never be… for a shithead like you. And for what? A few minutes of attention — but only when no one’s watching; feeling needed — but only because the one he really wants is a thousand miles away. There are no words to describe how disappointed I am… in myself. 

I don’t even want to waste my thoughts on you anymore.

Goodbye,

Christine

i don’t think i’ve ever really gotten over any of the boys i’ve liked before. even though i’m sure i never loved them, even though the break-up never made me sad, even if some of them have girlfriends, i still carry a piece of them in my heart.

my heart still flutters with every smile, every kind word, every cute action.

i don’t like them anymore, but i know i could. sometimes i wonder, if a boy were cute and nice to me, would i automatically like him? is that all it takes? am i that shallow? did i ever really like any of them, or is this just a silly case of he-used-to-be-mine-but-now-he’s-not-but-i-wish-he-still-was?

i say i’ve never been in love, but maybe i have. maybe i fall in love too easily.

i just cried because of you. okay, not just because of you. i cried because i haven’t been getting any sleep, because i’m stressed, because my life sucks… and what happened just now just happened to set off all my emotions. but still, what the fuck is wrong with me? i shouldn’t be crying over a guy. i’ve never cried over a guy. and now, just because you weren’t paying full attention to me when i just wanted to have a real conversation, just because you signed off without figuring out that i was mad at you, i start crying?

I feel contemplative all the time. I think too much all the time. I want to write all the time. But it’s all bullshit. Even that word - “contemplative” - it’s just bullshit.

I don’t know anything. All these thoughts of mine have been thought before. Everything I can possibly write has been written before. I am young and stupid and I still think I’m invincible even though I know I am not.

Five days. I have five more days to finish an infinite amount of work. I know what I have to get done. I know it. Read this, read that, answer this, an essay here, an essay there. Why can’t I just sit down and do it?

Please, get the fuck out.

Seriously, why are you such a slut? You are a messed up, crazy girl. You need to get over your ex, because you are hurting some really nice boys who are stupid enough to fall for you.

Yes, you’re pretty. Yes, you’re funny. Yes, you have that special charisma, and that’s why all the boys like you. But me? I see right through you. You’re nice to everyone, too nice. And only I know it’s just an act.

I can remember you telling me, “She’s so emo, so weird! I never liked her!” A few days later? I see you two talking and laughing like you’re best friends. You act like that even when you “never liked her?” You act fake-nice to everyone just so everyone will like you? You’re pathetic. And I hate the fact that it works.

So I’d appreciate if you’d stop talking to this boy. Stop calling him, stop texting him, stop IMing him, stop everything. You’ve hurt him enough already. I don’t know if you’re feeling a bit low after being rejected by your newest crush, I don’t know if you just want to play with his heart some more to raise your own stupid self-esteem. Just get out of his life and let him move on.

Thanks,

Autumn

i’m sitting here, determined to write about you. when i think about you, so many feelings, thoughts, memories come to mind, i don’t know where to start. i can talk about how after we met for the first time, we had no contact with each other until a year later, and that is when this whole thing began. i can talk about how we can’t go one day without talking to each other. i can talk about how i’ll ignore all my friends just to talk to you. i can talk about how i can count the number of times we’ve seen each other in person (9) on my two hands. i can talk about how your lips feel against mine. i can talk about your vampire-like teeth. i can talk about the feeling i get when i see you smile.

i can talk about how you are the exception. you know, supposedly when you clasp your hands together, if your left thumb goes over your right, you listen to your mind, and if your right thumb goes over your left, you listen to your heart? yeah, well, i listen to my mind. i overanalyze everything. i give myself stupid reasons to justify closing up my heart. i did that for you, too. “he’s not my type. he’s probably not interested. i don’t think he’s over his ex-girlfriend.” but somehow, i broke my rules for you. even though i insisted to others, we’re just friends, i found myself initiating a lot of conversations with you. i found myself secretly hoping that this would go somewhere.

i can talk about how confused you make me. i know you weren’t over her, in the beginning. even though it’d already been 8 months since you’d broken up, you loved her so fucking much, you just couldn’t get over her. you told me you didn’t have the capacity to love anymore. i asked myself, do i really want to be in this situation? no, i don’t. i hate that i have to help you get over your first love. i hate that some other girl can make you so sad. i hate that you’ll never love me as much as you loved her.

but at the same time, i’m asking you not to love me like you loved her. don’t give up your soul to me, because there’s an end to everything. sometimes i wonder, what’s the point? we laugh and talk like there’s no end in sight, but i know that there will come a day when you will just disappear from my life, and i from yours. but even if this hurts me, even if part of your reason for being with me is so that you can recover from the damage she inflicted on your heart… i’m happy. if i can help take away some of your sadness, if i can have even a small place in your love story, i guess there is a point to this.

because you see, you’ve dragged me into this real-life version of 500 days of summer. i am your autumn, she is your summer. god, i hated that movie. and now i hate it even more. because autumn’s not a main character, she’s just some girl stuck in at the end to make the ending a little more bearable. and that’s me. that’s my fate.

not a happy ending, just a consolation prize.

It’s been a while.

I’ve neglected this blog for a few months, sorry. But I need this again — I need to be able to write without censoring myself. A lot of my friends are making tumblrs now, and though they’re not following me yet, it’s only a matter of time before they find my main blog… so I’ll be on here more often. I need to start up my letters again, too.

Anyway, I’m in Taiwan right now. I’ve been here since school ended. I was so excited to come, I didn’t realize that I’d be missing so much that’s going on at home. I can’t hang out with any of my friends. I can’t hang out with any of the seniors who are going to college soon.

A lot changes over the summer, and a lot changes after the summer. Change is scary, especially because I’m not there to experience it. I feel like I might be left behind when I return. I keep thinking, I should be there right now. I should be at that graduation party, I should be watching that movie, I should be with my friends. I’m stuck here as people are forming new friendships, going to Princeton every day, sneaking out at night, making memories that I’ll never be a part of.

Whatever, I can deal with it for another three weeks.

Exactly 3 years ago was the day we began. May 21, 2007 - your 14th birthday.

I never thought you would be my first boyfriend, my first kiss, my first break-up.

The first time I saw you, I wondered why you were so tan. So tan, I wasn’t even sure if you were Asian. You were quiet, too. I was the one who started all those initial conversations. I was loud and enthusiastic and in your face. But eventually, you opened up. We were really good friends, weren’t we? Though we had different music tastes, though you were Japanese and had just transferred from an international school in Germany, though I laughed at your terrible handwriting, though we really had nothing in common, you were my best friend.

I never expected it. The (very neatly written) “Formal?” on the inside of the case of the Maroon 5 CD you burned for me. It was so unexpected that I opened the case in front of you and walked away without even noticing your question. Why would a good-looking guy like you ask a girl like me to 8th grade formal? I wonder if you remember me giving you the cookie I said I’d buy you for your birthday, and the napkin with “Yes” on it, that got ripped up to shreds as soon as I set down the cookie in the middle of your table by the hungry boys who pounced on it. “Oh, we’ll remember this story forever!” said my friends, as we laughed at the irony.

I remember Pirates of the Caribbean 3, you awkwardly taking my hand as we watched Orlando Bloom lick Keira Knightley’s knee, slightly wilted flowers hidden beneath your seat, and a question, “will you be my girlfriend?” An awkward hug, throwing away your flowers so my mom wouldn’t see, three weeks of texting you all day without a texting plan. And my mom finding out about us - right before 8th grade formal.

Oh, formal. My first kiss! It was perfect, thanks to you. The last slow dance, a sweet peck on the cheek, then on the lips… I really liked you, you know.

I’m sorry. I never meant to hate you. But after dating in secret, having my mom find out over and over again… I was tired. Tired of pretending and lying, tired of the burden of being tied down. After a summer away from you… I realized I was happier without you.

I made a lot of mistakes with you. We were both young and stupid. But… thanks. You taught me a lot. I learned to never say “I love you” when I don’t mean it. I didn’t love you, but … maybe I could’ve. We’ll never know. But I’m glad, really glad, that those two years of us ignoring each other are finally over. I’m glad you’re happy with your girlfriend. I wish you two the best.

So for the first time in three years, I’d like to wish you happy birthday - and congratulations on your driver’s license!

Love,

Christine

PS. I still have this little gift I bought you at camp during the summer of 8th grade. Maybe someday I’ll give it to you.

Dear C,

You may already know this, but you are my role model. I look up to you so much. You’re beautiful and loved, but still somehow manage to stay nice and sincere to everyone. I can’t believe that you and I never crossed paths until a month ago. Three years of potential friendship — gone. Even though I’m still a bit shy and awestruck to talk to you in person, I’m happy that I met you. I can only hope that in the coming month, I’ll be able to get to know you better before you graduate.

Sincerely,

Christine

Dear __,

What the fuck happened? When’d you become such an asshole? I don’t understand what I ever saw in you.

Just kidding. I can still see the things that I liked about you. But you were always an asshole — I just chose to ignore it back then.

Sincerely,

Christine