letters lament

Dear Dork: Why

I just think that at some point I'll write you another one of these, so this is just for now. The first week, the first hands held, the first questions. I don't know what I'm even saying, I'm sorry. I've just been thinking too much lately, and I have a feeling you'll read this one day and be quite appauled. Maybe you'll think, "Why was she thinking about everything so early? We didn't even go on a real date yet." 

That's what I thought too, but there's so much baggage attached to me. There's so much I had to think about, the moment I said yes to you. 

My dad, the situation. How'd you react to it. My ears, and the way it's hard to talk to me sometimes, and how I get annoying. How if I get too attached to you, my heart might shatter. The way I can talk forever and ever, and how that might make you bored with me, because I stumble over my words and have that little stutter or can't get a word out right. The way I fall apart all the time, and sometimes it's really hard to put myself back together again. I have days where I can barely try to smile, and days where I hate myself so much it's not even worth it to live.

That little scar on the inside of my right forearm. The way my hair whips in your face and gets stuck everywhere. The feeling of vomit going up my throat, that one time I decided to be forceful and empty. The way I get lost in the music, and the salt water that comes over and over again, sometimes it won't stop. 

I'm pretty sure you've got a perfect life, sort of.

Your parents are nice, you say you get along with your brother. Mine on the other hand, can't keep his fists or dirty words to himself. You don't have a lot of money, but you can drive, and you're normal. You have one house, not two, and you don't switch, being forced to spend a day or two with someone you don't ever want to see. 

I don't know what to say. My stomach's in knots when I think of you, because I want to be close. I want you to like me. I don't know how you could like me. How could you have the thought to even ask me to go with you? I'm not anything special. 

I'm a fuck up. 

I'm fucked up. 

I'm lost.