Dear Stranger,
Last night I cried myself to sleep for the first time in a long time. Then I woke up just now, having slept through both of my classes, feeling miserable. Maybe things are eating me more than I realize.
I just really need to talk to Rowdy. Or Lila. Actually, I need to talk to Lila because she’s the one person in my life that I’m sure of. If nothing else, at the end of the day I’ll have her. If only she wasn’t so fucking far away. Fuck. I miss her.
I need to hack up the courage to text Rowd again but I don’t know if I can. I need him in my life. I need to see him. I can’t understand why, and I never will, but I need him so badly right now. Whenever I’m happy it’s easy to forget about him, but the second I start going under, I need him to pull me back up. You’d think I would’ve learned to swim by now…
But last night, I wasn’t crying about all that. I was crying about how I can feel Roger leaving us, slowly but surely, and I know soon enough he’s going to be in the hands of Nicole and he won’t talk to us anymore. And I am going to be so heartbroken when he’s not there. And I know I’ll never be able to let myself be close with him again because it’s gonna hurt too much when he leaves.
Basically I feel myself losing one of my best friends, and it hurts too much to even think about.
And I hate crying but I’m starting to again and I just want to go back to when things were simpler, and kids played with dolls instead of real people.
Love,
Anonymous
Dear Stranger,
I stayed up late with Roger cuddling and listening to radiohead. If I could make myself fall in love with someone, and someone with me, it would be Roger. He’s the most beautiful person, and we’re so opposite but so similar. He sees the world in such a wonderful light, while I complain about the glare. He helps me get through here.
Unfortunately, we’re such good friends that any sort of romantic feelings between the two of us are laughable to think about. It would be so silly to fall for him. Rog. He would be the perfect person to fall in love with, but that could just never happen. It makes me giggle to think about it. I’m sure he feels the same.
Anyway, we were listening to music while tangled together on one of the love-seats in the lounge of the dorms. And then, of course, we started talking about life and happiness and how it’s really the only thing anyone is reaching for. And I ended up telling him about Chris. He’s the only person I’ve told here. Two of my other friends know we’ve hooked up once, but that was weeks ago. Roger is the only one who knows about last Friday. I told him that Chris is thinking about someone else, but he still kissed me and I wanted him so I couldn’t help what I did.
Obviously Rog thinks it’s a waste of my emotions. And it is. It definitely is. But, then again, are good feelings really so tainted by the bad? What makes anything worth suffering for?
I know that Chris isn’t worth it. I know it. And Rog reminded me of how he treats other girls. Of how I might be the only girl he’s been with this semester, but that’s not from any lack of effort towards the contrary. I know that Chris doesn’t really care about me, and that he’ll never love me. But I can’t help but to love the way he calls me beautiful and to want to kiss him back. So badly. I just want him so, so terribly and I hate myself for it.
“Think about how much pain it’s causing you even now.” Roger said to me. “And it’s probably more than I even realize. If this ever turns into a relationship, you’ll be so depressed.”
I know I will be. I know.
I tried telling him that I don’t have real feelings for Chris, but Roger knows me better than that. The truth is, I’m not entirely sure about anything anymore, mainly my own feelings. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I know what I want to do, and what I should do, but not what I’m going to do. I never know that until it happens. And by then, it’s too late. Obviously.
At any rate I’m glad Rog knows because I needed to spill my guts to someone and I think I trust him more than anyone else. He cares about me. Not that other people don’t, but he doesn’t just care, he wants to make things better. All the while he’s suffering through his own life and he still has time to lie with me on a love-seat that’s too small for us, listen to radiohead, and talk. About my problems in particular. That’s love.
Sincerely,
Anonymous
