Dear Richie

December 25 Age:15

Dear Richie,

It's Christmas Day, the most wonderful day of the year.

Supposedly.

I just can't help feeling like...I'm alone this season. I know, I know, I have family to comfort me and that love me, but (I'm sorry, I feel selfish when I say this) that's not the kind of lonely I mean.

I see mistletoes everywhere, couples laughing merrily. I hear Christmas love songs on the radio all of the time.

You see, many people think that Valentines Day is the day of love, but I've always believed that Christmas was. It's the day where you not only show your loved ones you care, but also the ones who don't know.

I mean you, Richie.

All I wanted for Christmas this year was you, just like that song.

But, as all wishes go, they never come true.

Because, just like every year, you go out of town to visit family over the holidays.

I just wish I had the guts to actually tell you. To admit my feelings.

But, you see, that makes me vulnerable, weak. And I don't want you to see me as weak, like the rest of the world does.

The world sees me as insignificant, useless. Students are starting to beat on me now, as if I'm their personal punching bag.

Some guys from the football team encountered me last week, just before the break. I was simply carrying my books and backpack to my locker, paying no mind to anyone.

Then they blocked my way down the hall (I was only a few feet from my locker), standing with their arms folded.

"Excuse me," I remember squeaking.

"No," the guy in front of me said. I don't know his name, but I'm pretty sure that he's a senior. He had shaggy brown hair and he wore a tight t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. I stared down at his shoes most of this encounter.

"Excuse you," the guy next to him added. I glanced up from the floor and gave him a confused look.

"Ummm, that's kinda what I just said..." My voice trailed.

The guy on the opposite side of him slapped him in the back of the head. "Yeah, idiot."

I then attempted to squeeze between them.

Big mistake.

"Where do you think you're going, pipsqueak." The first guy replied, gripping me by the back of my backpack. He pulled me and shoved me up against the lockers. Thankfully, my backpack protected me from most of the blow.

"Yeah," the idiot guy added. "We never said that you could leave."

That's when the three of them dragged me outside, so that there weren't any witnesses, and began shoving me against the brick wall hashly and socked me in the gut repeatedly.

You're probably wondering, "why didn't you try to escape, Leia?"

Believe me when I say, "I did."

I would scurry away, but that is when they'd grab me again, shoving me against the wall. I wasn't fast enough, strong enough, smart enough.

So I stood there and took it. In the end I did puke up my lunch. The only upside to this is probably giving me a reason to go home early.

No, I didn't tell the nurse about the football players. I don't have a death sentence waiting for me.

I just told her that I threw up outside on the lawn and wasn't feeling well. Hey, it is the truth.

Anyhow, my point is that nobody cares about me. My parents and siblings care about me.

To an extent.

You'd never understand. You'd never understand even if I explained it to you. You have a perfect life. Perfect family. Perfect friends. Perfect home.

You are perfect.

I, on the other hand, am very imperfect. I am a flaw. A mistake. I don't have the perfect family or friends (except you) or home. Every single one of those things is falling apart as I wrote this letter.

Like I said, you'd never understand.

Sorry, this is such a depressing letter for the holidays. Maybe I should crumple this one so that you never have to read it.

Yup, that sounds like a brilliant idea.

Love,
Leia Meadows ❤