Letters from Luke

note fifteen.

This letter isn't going to be sent to you. 

I'm not going to send you this letter. 

Honestly, it's painful just thinking about what to write in this letter. 

I'm sitting by my broken window. Someone threw an object towards my window so now it's a bit fucked up. It's alright though. I like the midnight breeze I get in my room. But it's raining right now and my black t-shirt is getting soaked. 

I don't feel like moving. 

Basically I'm writing this wet soaking letter because my too lazy of an ass doesn't want to get up. 

Anyways, if I ever do decide to send this to you and perhaps you're already reading or skimming through this, I'm sorry. 

I know. I say "I'm Sorry" a million times. Sorry. (A Million and one now)

I want to write out what happened the night every thing ended. It's been in my mind for a couple weeks now, and it won't leave until I write it out. 

I guess you and I just got too close. 

Everything we did started to annoy the shit out of each other. 

You could bang your pencil against the desk over and over again, and boom. 

Pillows are flying everywhere and we're yelling at each other because it's what we do. We yell and argue for no reasons at all. 

But that night was different than the other pointless arguments and fights. I say it that way because I cried myself to sleep that night. I kept re-thinking over and over that I was an idiot and that you weren't going to talk to me anymore. Well obviously that did happen, but guys have emotions as well. We're not a robot with stoned feelings. We can cry. We have those moments. 

What happened was that we were sending text messages to each other. First it started off with our usual lame and cheeky jokes, and then everything went down hill from there. You told me that you needed to come over and say something really important.

You said that you didn't want to be involved with me anymore. Completely. 

You said that you were getting tired of everything, and tired of me. 

You said that I should move on and never talk to you again if I see you in the halls.

When you said all of those things, I lost myself. 

I get that we were just hormonal teenagers with fucked up emotions, but it hurts when you were basically pushing me away. I was your first friend you ever made and I had your back on every thing. 

When my brother took you away and walked you back to your house next door, I felt so different. Like there was pain inside of me and it wasn't going away. 

Maybe someone told you something about me to make you do that. 

But all I know from the past is that

behind all the I Hate You's,

was a true I Love You. 

Sorry, I've been re-writing those three lines over and over again and it kinda looks bold now.

(A million and two)

Sincerely, 

Letters From Luke.