Dearest, Heartbreaker.

|| second letter back ||

Dearest,

Chinese food hater.

Excuse me?

It's not my fault I was drunk,

that's what happens at parties you know.

Teenagers get drunk, they shag, they're free,

and they feel like they're on top of the world.

I've been thinking, and technically this is all your fault.

You let me shag you when

you were supposed to be taking care of me.

You started writing these letters to me in the first place,

you obviously wanted answers if you actually sent them.

You constantly insult me as if we are friends,

guess what honey, we're not.

Something's bothering me and I'm going to tell you,

you claim you know me but I don't think you do.

Just because you've seen me on top of you naked

doesn't mean you know me.

You've simply seen what everybody else sees,

you haven't seen the inside of my skin.

You have no idea what I'm like.

You have no idea of who I am.

And if you really wanted to know me,

you would actually stop being such a coward,

you would stop hiding behind nice and neat handwriting,

and you would actually talk to me in person.

I don't bite, unless you want me to of course,

seeing as I already shagged you once you already know what I'm like in bed.

But right now, you're just a girl.

you're nothing special,

lots of other girls leave me letters in my locker.

And I'm pleased to say I always find out who they are,

before they tell me, of course.

I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to find you.

and there won't be paper and a pen

to save you from talking this time.

Before I say goodbye,

I don't follow rules from anyone.

So...careful with what you write,

you never know when I'll answer,

or when I'll feel like it.

-Chinese food lover, Ryder.

(P.S maybe we're not meant to be my dearest, Juliet.)