Dear Edmund:
I notice that you love people, it's strange, you have a certain adoration for them.
And your friends, god, you treat them as if they're made of stars.
It hurts, because I don't have friends. Watching you, Edmund, when you are with them, it hurts. It's sweet, and painful. All at the same time.
When you do things like give them bear hugs when they are cold. Or when you actually freaking honest to god booped Abby on the nose. Or when you wheeled one of your friends around school when he was hurt.
And goddammit Edmund, sometimes I cry over stuff like that. Because I'm selfish, and an idiot. And I want that for me.
I'm so alone Edmund, all the time.
YOU ARE READING
Letters to Edmund
No Ficción"Letters to you, even though you'll never get them" (This book is like a diary for me, everything that happens actually happens for real, so please respect my work and the characters because they are real people)
