Late Night Letters

3

Hi,

I'm back, surprise, surprise. I thought about home today. I think about home a lot lately, and how soon it won't be home. I mean in my heart it'll always be home. Where we grew up, where I started to become who I am. But soon, when I say I'm going home, it won't be what it's always been. And that got my thinking about if you still see home as home. You go to school right next door, your mom tells me that you still pop in sometimes and stay at your friend's houses. That's nice. But I don't know if you still consider it home.

I wonder sometimes, if down the road, at like 25 I'll be able to stand in a room with you and have a conversation. But not just any conversation, a conversation in which we both walk away at peace. The sad thing is, that everytime I ask myself that, my answer is always I don't think so. And it makes me sad for a lot of reasons, but I'd say the main one is that letting you go completely will never be an option. So I'll always hang on to a feeling of sadness while you don't care. Which is unhealthy, I know. But you're also replying to something I've written at midnight when I'm supposed to be sleeping because it's been like five years and I still can't move past your actions. So it's not like we could use healthy to describe out acquaintanceship to being with.

I have to make a pretty big decision soon. Everyone keeps telling me that no matter where I end up, I'll be okay. Cause that's the kind of person I am. And that I make friends easily, etcetera etcetera, I sound like Im boasting I promise I'm not, I have a point. Anyways, my big decision, it all depends on one score. A score is going to make a decision for me. And that's scary, and I'm not sure if I've fully accepted the control I have over that score. By that I mean that I can get the score I want by putting in the effort. But I don't think I understand fully that I need to put in the effort. Which is stupid and you won't get it cause, you're a genius. So I don't know why I'm trying.

My parents might move. And you might be out of my life for semi good. And you might see pictures of me on my mom's facebook with captions like, "She's home!" and me at an airport, or me in a new house, me with other family friends. Me with my best friend. And I'll see pictures of you, I don't know if you've noticed but neither of us can pose properly in pictures, we always look awkward or uncomfortable, or you look like an ass. I have some good pictures, they'll be hanging up in my room come September. You won't be in them. People won't know who you are. I'll stop telling people. Occasionally I'll add something onto here. Occasionally. And we'll move on.

If you ever do find this. Which, God I hope you don't, but if you do, know that I'm not writing this for you. I'm writing for me, and any other random human out there who has trouble sleeping and happened to stumble across this thing. Who just so happens to relate. Who can understand and feel less alone when they finish reading. I don't do things for you anymore. I do them for the people who deserve it.

Sleep tight, let the bed bugs bite you.

L.