Kate wastes her time sitting inside coffee shops while writing letters to people that have, at some point, left a mark.
A compilation of unsent letters Kate Alexander writes daily whilst sipping chai in a coffee shop downtown.
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Date: April 5th, 2015
Dear Peter,
At this point, I guess you are the only guy that I've written to that is still physically in my life. You're going to college next year and you will either probably be another Jackson or another Dawson. I hope it's Dawson; Jackson is not someone I'd like to have in my life.
But I know in the deepest part of my heart, that you will be another Jackson. Scratch that, nobody will replace Jackson. But nobody will certainly replace you. So I guess, let me just say it: You are going to definitely break my heart. I mean, you already are.
So we had this whole drama going on and you know, a lot of people know I have this thing for you but it's fine. They're nice and I like that, back then when Jackson was here, it was so much more chaotic.
I thought I had a chance with you, you know. But I don't and I'm still trying to accept that fact, one day I'll be over it and it'll all be better, won't it? I hope so.
It's so hard to get over you when almost every day someone will mutter something along the lines of you looking so good. You always look good. Why do you have to look good? My God.
We always share glances, at least that's what I think. In mild retrospect, were you looking at me or at someone near me? I don't know, why would you be looking at me anyway?
I really, really like you and it sort of sucks that you don't feel the same way. When I put it that way, it doesn't really seem that sad but when you're alone inside your room curled up in bed and every so minute you'd check your phone to see if someone's name popped an never seeing their name, it really does sound sad. At least for me.
Look, I don't really know why it's so hard for you to answer. But I hope you finally realize how much it hurts to be ignored by someone you'd give your last slice of Pizza to, then you might answer me. But for now, this letter is enough to share my sorrow.
