I’m transcribing a series of handwritten letters I wrote, but never sent. Read the previous letters here.
I want your opinion. I want to know what you’re thinking. I want to know if you felt about me at all. I want to interact with something real after what feels like three months of fake. How much did you fake for me? You know what? This is stupid. I shouldn’t even care. It shouldn’t even matter. I can’t stop myself. I sat there and had to say to myself again and again, “you left me, you don’t want me anymore. I shouldn’t contact you.”
That parting note, “talk to me anytime.” It was conciliatory. You didn’t mean it. It was a line. Do you have someone new? Is that why you left. It feels like you never talked to me first unless you were drunk. Why did your inhibitions have to be lowered to talk to me? Did I not tell you I liked you enough? Was this because I didn’t share? I can’t really share, it’s just not in me. Please don’t let that be the reason.
Did you think I wouldn’t go with you if you found someone new and better? You left me alone! You knew how much it means to me to share anything personal. Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe you’re the fool I always tried to pretend you weren’t. A high, drunk, fool, who rescued me anyway. No. I rescued myself. I just wanted a crutch, once in life. I’m whining now. To no one. I’ll never end this feeling. I hate you. I miss you. I’m lonely. I can’t stop staring at your picture. I’d bet anything you jacked off to mine.
You know, I know you did. You asked for the pictures. Did you tell me your fantasies on purpose? Was that an intimacy? Or were you bragging? Trying to impress me. Trying to put your will on me. I would’ve done it for you, you know. Just because you asked. God I’m pathetic.
I don’t have two feet to stand on. I look down and I’m surprised they’re there. I just wanted your time. This better not be that one great love I’m supposed to get. That doesn’t even make sense. I’m so weirdly superstitious.
If I wrote you now, it would be two lines – that’d be it. It’d have to be tech related too. It’d be short. I’d probably say, “hey, I’m thinking about you.” Or, “I thought about you, because.” Because I always needed a because to talk to you. I never just could. I was never strong enough. I could never just send you me. Though, you asked three times. I must’ve been so boring to you. You wouldn’t even recognize me now.
Maybe I’ll let you know if I’m back in your city in the spring. I’ll say, “let me see if we work.” You’d say, “God you’ve gotten fat.” You’d look at me like you didn’t understand. You never got me. You only liked me because I singled you out – of all the boys – I liked you.
We made together. Me and you. It made me better, did you know? I think you installed AE for me. Maybe that’s the nicest thing you ever did for me. Other than almost call me your girlfriend. The time you called me beautiful, you were lying. I know it. You know it.