Letters *Edited* — Page 2 | Young Writers Society

SisterItaly · 2011-05-28T00:50:56Z

Dear Jock, I used to love you with every thread of my being. I used to stay up for hours every night and imagine how things would be for us if you would just ask me out. I used to try and ask you out myself. I used to draw our initials into little hearts all over my assignments, and then try and white them out before I handed them in. I used to. Not anymore. Recently, I've realized you aren't worth the tears I've shed. Or the tubs of icecream I've eaten. I've been completely transparent to you all these years. I bet you didn't even read the card I slipped into your locker on valentines day. Either that or your Slut of a girlfriend threw it away. I never did like her. I realized you weren't worth it, and I was only hurting myself. It's unfortunate that it took me four years to figure this out. However, I don't hate you. I have no reason to hate you, because you have done nothing wrong. I don't even know if you will read this letter, for all I know you will crumple it up and throw it away like an old discarded sock that lays in one of the changing rooms. I just wanted you to know. Sincerly, Transparent. ~ Dear Slut, I used to hate you more than 'a fat kid hates dieting'. Do you remember when you used to say that about me? Anyway, I used to hate you, and envy you. I looked at you with nothing but resentment. I'd spend hours plotting ways to make your life more miserable than you made mine on a daily basis. You didn't even seem to try. I used to. Really, instead of hating you I should have been thanking you. You've made me a stronger person than I ever thought I could be on my own. There were times when I wondered if any of this was worth it anymore, I wondered if I should have just given up. I'm glad I didn't. Now I realize, I was the bigger person. You may have the 'perfect' body, and the 'perfect' social life, and the 'perfect' boyfriend, but it's all just make believe, isn't it? I saw the way you would cake on makeup in the bathroom, and your best friend (who also happens to be my sister... if you didn't know) told me how you obsessively check your weight. It's really unfortunate. I always thought you were pretty. Whoever told you that you weren't perfect lied to you. Because I always thought you were perfect just the way you are. Sincerely, A Fat Cow. ~ Dear Best Friend, Thank you, for always being there. For being crazy with me. For dancing in the rain. For hugging me when I cried and listening to my sob-stories. Thank you for never questioning my sanity when I would tell you that I wish I could kill someone. Most of all, thank you for talking me out of suicide all those times. One more thing. I'm sorry. I should have noticed after all these years that you were a lesbian, and that you liked me. The truth is, now that I look at it. If I would have realized sooner, and you would have asked, I would have said yes. You treat me better than any guy ever could. I mean it, too. It must have been frusterating, having the girl you want so close and not being able to have her. You were always a stronger person than me, though. I admire that greatly. You will move onto greater things, I can feel it. One day, when you're the big-time singer that you want to be, I'll download all your songs from Itunes and look back on the days when I knew you when you were invisible. Sincerly, Clueless. ~ Dear Mother, Your note will be the shortest of all the letters I've written. Because you already know everything I feel about you. I need to thank you. For everything. Without your support and wise advice, I might not have made it this far. I have realized, though, that all the times you've grounded me or taken away my cellphone, they were for my own good. I hope someday, I will be as good of a mother as you are. It must have been hard to raise the three of us alone. Sincerely, Daughter ~ Dear Bald Asshole, I know you're the geography teacher, but everyone called you that. I'm sorry for their neglegence. We always gave you a hard time for being the... oddest looking of all the teachers. That was pretty rude of us, and for it you probably worried for the future generations. I don't blame you. The truth is, you were the best teacher I ever had. Usually, people say their favorite teacher was their art teacher, or their music teacher. But you were mine. For an 'old bald asshole' you were very calm and relaxed. You gave good, honest grades. Helped us with our work. You actually succeeded in making geography interesting. Most of all, you were kind of like a friend to me. I would go to you before the guidence counselor, because you offered better advice and more moral support. It makes me feel like a real jerk after all that teasing and acting up I did in class. It's true what they say, what's popular is not always right and what's right is not always popular. Thank you for helping me realize that. Sincerly, A Troublemaker. ~ Dear School Community, You've showed me the best and worst four years of my life, but sadly a time comes for us all to move on. That time, for us graduating, is now. Some of us are moving onto college, some to university. New places, new people, new ideas. Most of all, new beginnings. I have a little advice, for all of you. For the grade Nines, don't worry about popularity and appearences. Nine times out of ten, all is not what it seems. Let loose, and show some school pride. You're stuck here for four years anyway, make them worthwhile. For grade Tens, I know that you may feel a little... invisible sometimes. But really, who cares? Go crazy, have fun, dance in the rain and wear funny hats. It's all for the kicks. Three more years, show them who you are and make the world your playground. Make it the start of something big. Elevens, you may be tired of all of this. You may wish you were in grade twelve already, because you can't stand another year of this. All I can say is... chin up. You should know what you want to do with your life, show the world. Make pretty things even though no one cares. Fall in love. Dance like no one is watching and laugh at jokes that you only get five minutes later. Grade Twelves, this is your final year. Make. Your. Mark. Don't be remembered as the invisable kid in the corner, and don't be remembered as the bitch who thought she was all that and a ton of shit. Because who says you're not perfect, and who says you're not worth it? Appearences aren't all that they seem. Sincerely, Anonymous ~ She neatly folded the five letters and placed them in their individual envelopes. Writing them was only half the task, and she wasn't done yet. Not yet. She wiped the tears that had welled up in her eyes as she placed them in her bag. The house was silent, but that was to be expected at three in the morning. No one was up this early, so she could almost hear a pin drop, if one so happened to drop. She slowly dialed the number for a taxi and slid the note for her mother out of her bag and onto the table. When a voice finally asked what they could do for her, she responded with her address and hung up. She placed the phone on top of the letter, now there was no way it would go unnoticed. She tip-toed into the garage and grabbed her suitcase. The shadows watched her as she slipped out the door, almost as if they wanted to grab her and pull her back in. As the door clicked shut, she could have sworn she had left her stomach back inside. She knew this feeling would come, this moment of uncertainty. She swallowed her fear, and her guilt, as she walked down the drive to the waiting taxi. "1450 Oakland drive, please." she mumbled as she placed her bag on the seat beside her. The driver nodded and pulled away. She watched as her home faded from view behind them, and let a hand press against the window. Promising to never forget. Never, ever forget. The driver looked back at her and smiled understandingly, but remained silent. The next morning, as everyone opened their letters she was walking down the old forest path, towards the waiting truck. She pressed the keys into the waiting ignition and took a deep breath before putting two hands on the wheel. Tiffany placed the letter on the end table beside her bed as she layed a hand on her stomach and glanced at her scale. Ryan smirked and pinned the note up on his corkboard, beside his football schedual. Hannah wiped the tears from her eyes as she pinned the little rainbow-flag pin to her shirt. Mr. Boyle ran a hand over his scalp and sat back in his chair as he looked over his empty classroom. Mrs. Carter placed a hand over her mouth and flipped open the little locket on her neck, containing a picture of Mr. Carter. She took another deep breath and pressed down on the gas. The early morning traffic began to pick up once she reach the highway. Cars passed by, people heading to work and play. People visiting family and friends. She smiled as she started down the highway, heading away from her town. A voice on the radio announced the next song, and dully continued in the background. It offered a sort of company. "It's not like I'm sad." she whispered as she gripped the wheel, "It's not like I want to cry. I just need to... get away, and find myself.," she stated to no one in particular. This was the start of something good.

DarkShadow

Gender

Points 1059

Reviews 5

Fri Jun 03, 2011 6:36 pm

DarkShadow says... · Fri Jun 03, 2011 6:36 pm

your story has touched me deeply more than anyother story i felt as if these were letters i would write but you did and brought me to tears with the story (that hardly happens) i love this so much you are a great writer
-lucy

"A book comes and says, 'Write me.' My job is to try to serve it to the best of my ability, which is never good enough, but all i can do is listen to it, do what it tells me and collaborate." -Madeleine L'engle

DarkShadow

Gender

Points 1059

Reviews 5

Fri Jun 03, 2011 6:39 pm

DarkShadow says... · Fri Jun 03, 2011 6:39 pm

your story has touched me deeply more than anyother story i felt as if these were letters i would write but you did and brought me to tears with the story (that hardly happens) i love this so much you are a great writer
-lucy

"A book comes and says, 'Write me.' My job is to try to serve it to the best of my ability, which is never good enough, but all i can do is listen to it, do what it tells me and collaborate." -Madeleine L'engle

IgnisandGlacialis

Gender

Points 3649

Reviews 106

Sat Jun 04, 2011 6:19 am

IgnisandGlacialis says... · Sat Jun 04, 2011 6:19 am

I thought this was an amazing and insightful piece of work. Really great. I loved the letters, I loved the reactions. There are some things that really need to be written by someone, and this is one of those things. You know?
Thanks for a great, thought-provoking read!
- Ignis

The POTATO of DOOM

A thousand times it calls your name
A thousand times you hear it
And fools are those who heed its call
But fools are those who fear it.

The Interesting Thoughts of Edward Monkton

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