Jazzmyne's Letters Were Never Meant To Be Read

Some Dude

Dear basically no one,

I don't remember when the last time I talked to someone other than my parents. I thought it would sucked being this way. It's actually more convenient than I thought. But sometimes, when I walked around the corridors, blistering under the stares of curious eyes, I hoped so hard to distract myself with someone. I don't even care if that person is ridiculous, has a high-pitched voice, or likes someone lame like Shawn Mendes, or worse, Taylor Swift.

But maybe I don't have to settle for vexing, distressing, or galling.

Maybe I could go for broody, idiosyncratic, and maddening. Abysmal, unruly, silent. Reading Theocritus Idylls at the center table. Headphones in, furrowed eyebrows probably in confusion, but most likely in contemplation. Sitting at the center of the table situated at the very center of the library. A place that should be so crowded yet no one dares to sit there for some reason. I think he just exudes his boundaries that much, like all that space was his own personal space and whoever trespasses shall be accursed. It would clearly be amusing to break that peace. So, as I trudged towards his table savoring the giddy bubbles in my stomach, for a little bit, I could understand how terminal illnesses feel. 

Love,

Jazzmyne