Simple, → Peter▵MJ

Entry Two

Dear Simple,

It has been made clear to me that you're not going to write back. If I said something, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. Maybe it was the complaining? Sometimes that's all I seem to understand how to do. Complain. I shouldn't, though. I have a great life compared to the other half of America. Both my parents love me, though not each other, and now I have two great friends. 

Yes, you read my text precisely. Two friends. 

The last time I had even one friend was in second grade, so it's sufficient to say that I might be awful at this friend thing. I don't think they mind, though. Peter, the one I would say I'm closest to, is good at accepting the absurd, and Ned, the other friend, doesn't appear to mind my proximity of the friendship at all. I've never gotten along with just about anybody, so this is new.

I continue to stay after school. I truly hate coming back to this stupid apartment. I know it seems like I favor the quiet, but there is a difference between the quietness that you experience in a crowded room and the eeriness you hear in a vacant house. Luckily, since I'm the Decathlon Captain now, I can schedule almost all the meetings directly after school, three times a week.

Speaking of school, if you're still alive, or not in a coma, you probably saw the thousands of reports about the school shooting this last week. That was my school. I don't know if you were aware of that. We never did say where we live. Hopefully, you don't murder me in my sleep. But if you're worried, I'm not injured, or even emotionally scarred. I was lucky, unlike the twenty students that were rushed to the hospital.

I was sure to be shot if I hadn't of been saved by the Spider-man himself. That's right, Spider-man actually swooped in and dealt with the shooters, after I speedily got away. I would say that I'm star-struck, but there is something about the familiarity of it all that dulls me. I've met him once before, you know. It was when the entire team was about to fall to their deaths that he magically appeared out of nowhere. When he talked to me, he had a much different voice than the one he used at the school. I hate getting into anything severe, so hopefully, I never have to wonder about Spider-man's voice, ever again.

On the bright side, while there were many families screaming and crying for the safety of their child, I got to get away. The little place of refuge was at Peter's house, and I've never felt more at home. Their apartment wasn't big, vast, and dreary (like mine). It was small, cozy, and filled with life. May, Peter's aunt, served us hot chocolate that I was sure was laced with something. I just felt so at peace, I had no concern for anything I said. More than normal, at least.

I don't know if this is interesting to you, or if you even care, or if you're reading these anymore, but it helps me to know that I can write this stuff down and not get hurt for it. It's the thought that counts, or at least, that's what the motto is.

I just want you to know that I might not write these emails as often as I have been. I have Peter and Ned to tell these things to. If I ever get the courage, I might inform them of how much they mean to me. These boys might literally be the reason why I get through high-school without a malfunction. A brain malfunction.

Just so we're clear, I definitely don't have a crush on Peter. That would be ludicrous. Who would sever their friendship like that? Girls and boys can be friends.

That's what I recite to myself every day. It helps.

Sincerely, MJ.