So I know you won't receive this email, but I find it comfortable to type it. I hope you like the picture I made you, I hope you liked your Christmas present, and I hope your alright with me trying hard to be your friend.
Dude, it's almost been a year. A whole year.
Your birth day's coming up on the twelfth of March, I'm going to draw you something. I dunno what though
I'm concerned about you. You choice of "friends." Remember, your group got in trouble and you had to sit next to me? People kept making fun of you and honestly I felt like talking back to your "friends" they were being jerks.
But if I stood up for you, it would be to obvious that I... Not taking my chances.
But it would cause to much commotion.
You're gorgeous. And I hope what they said to you didn't offend you at all. I hope that they will get what they deserve for badmouthing you one day.
Your precious.
How've you been in sixth grade so far? Having fun hurting me and avoiding me? Well I hope that you quit your game of "I hurt the least" because I've been crying for these past months. I said I had gotten over it. I haven't.
I still want to be your friend. No matter how much of a jerk you've turned into.
I want to hear your stutters and your hilarious laugh again. Mostly I just want to have an excuse to look directly in your eyes when we speak.
I'm not sure if you've noticed but I've actually been starting to act more like a girl around the guy she likes. I mean I shiver I stay quiet, and when I'm not insulting you while I speak to you I'm fucking stuttering wild. Like seriously, I've never done that before and it angers me. It angers me that it has to be you who makes me feel this way. I hate it.
But you know what, I'll be here waiting for you to start a conversation with me. And I know that you hate me and all, but I like you. Not "like" like but "friend" like. Or at least I think.
I want to be able to speak to you clearly. Not just "umm... I... Erm... Was... Uh.." That's stupid.
I know this letter will never be in your hands. But lets hope it goes through your brain.
And if it did somehow land in your hands... Then this, Brandon Zolaft, is awkward.
- Aurora Ostrifoltz
