Dear Stranger,
I have decided to write to you only whenever I have something to tell you. You don’t need to hear about the sad monotonies of my life, you only need to hear what I need to get out. So, that being said, I will only post when I need to. Tonight, I probably should.
Last night I told Chris that everyone thinks he’s a man whore. This is mostly true, but I think I was emphasizing it because I’m bitter. He said he realized this and it’s because he’s promiscuous with everything that moves. But he spends more time playing video games than he does playing with girls.
Again, this is mostly true.
I tried again to get out of him who he’s really in love with, but he refused to talk. He just looked at me with sad grey eyes and pretended that I couldn’t phase him. That the people calling him bad words didn’t matter. That he would love more than anything to be known to the world as something this terrible.
I know people, though, and I know him. And I know that it ruined his night. I felt bad. I told him so and he shrugged it off. He’s a big boy. Words hurt, and he knows it. So does unrequited affection.
I sound more cynical that I am about the situation. The really sad thing is that I care about the fucker. It’s not fair, but I do. I want to tell him that he means nothing to me. That I will be loved by someone so much better than him someday, and he will have lost something wonderful. This will probably happen, too. But I can’t say it because all I want is him. And I hate myself for it. He can fall in love with whoever he wants to. But when he looks at me I know he wants to kiss me. And I can’t help thinking that that means something more than he’s letting out. And I can’t help hoping that it does.
Anyway today he acted normal in class. He flirted and smelled nice and looked at me funny, as always. But he’s not spending as much time with me lately and it makes me sad. Maybe he’s avoiding me. Maybe he just doesn’t want to lead me on anymore. But it’s too late, I’m already hooked. God, I hate the power boys have over me.
The worst thing is that I know he’s good. I know he’s trying desperately to be good, and I know he wants to want me back. Part of me is still hoping he does, and that he’s just concealing it because I’m going to be gone next year. Possibly. This weekend is my audition to Berklee, so I’ll find out soon if I’m transferring or not. I’m afraid of both possibilities. I want a reason to stay here more than anything.
But my pillow still sort of smells like him, and I don’t know if I can take this much longer.
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
