{16th may 2012}
dear jen,
sometimes i count the amount of smiles i smile that don't actually reach my eyes, but i always lose count by midday. smiles, like real smiles, aren't even a thing for me any more. i'm just pretending all the time, pretending to be okay, pretending to be hopeful, pretending to smile; it all comes in one big jumbo package deal, the one you get when you have depression and god knows what else.
i know you pretend too. not all the time. but sometimes. you wear this face and smile and you even manage to keep the gleam in your eyes- you're the most amazing actress, really you are- and i have absolutely no idea how you do it and even less of an idea of how i know you do it.
that's why i want to be you, sometimes, because i so badly want my fake smiles to look like real ones; to look so real even i don't know if they're fake. so can you teach me? like, teach me how to do it?
i guess not. you're not even reading this.
i don't know why i keep asking you questions, you're not going to answer them, are you?
i mean, jesus christ, you're not even reading them.
(that's the second time i've said that. but who's keeping count?)
it's for the best, though. dear god, imagine how embarrassing it would be if you did. i'd hate it so much, even if all these are addressed to you and i'm thinking about you as i write them.
these letters are the weirdest thing. it's like half the time i don't even know what to do with myself but i still know that i want to write you these letters, so i do. it's pretty goddamn ridiculous, if i'm honest.
