I’m transcribing a series of handwritten letters I wrote, but never sent. Read the previous letters here.
I want to talk to you so badly it hurts. I hurt. You did this. And it meant nothing to you. What would I say if I sent you a message? Love me. Please just love me. That’s what it would say. I looked it up. It was a month ago. That’s so long. I’m insane. I still shouldn’t feel this.
Ok. It’s official. I am the worst schedule keeper ever. My poor white rabbit.
Don’t tell me to think I’m beautiful,
Like it’s a gift,
Like I should,
Because you’re the first to say it, you think.
My strength comes from me.
Don’t lecture me about how pretty I am.
I’m not very pretty.
It doesn’t bother me anymore.
It just is.
You can say all women are beautiful.
But it’s a line you think you should say.
You don’t know me well enough to say I’m beautiful.
You think all women should think they’re beautiful.
Like all people should have confidence.
And that you’re God’s gift because you can tell this girl
This one right here
How pretty she is.
And that will make it all better
You can fix her sadness if she knows she’s pretty.