Open To Interpretation

Open Letter to Myself

He dragged his cheeks down with the heels of his palms. "I, uh- hi. If you read the title, you probably know what this video is gonna be about. Yeah, I- uh, I...this is an open letter to everyone who messed me up. You know who you are." He coughed into a fist and ran a hand through his hair, slicking his bangs away from his eyes. "In a way, it's my fault. I let it happen. I let you walk all over me, because I...I really thought that it was okay. I thought that I would rather you beat me up than ignore me. Because at least you made me feel like I existed. You kinda gave me a reason for me to be alive, even if it was something as small as your punching bag. You gave me a place in the world," He began, his hair slowly settling back into place. He crossed and uncrossed his arms awkwardly before clasping them on the keyboard of his laptop. "Yeah, I know, kind of creepy, right? It's like I had a weird obsession with you, or something." His eerily placid expression gave way to a sad grin. "In the end, we're all just dumb teenagers. You were dumb for thinking that you were above me, and I was dumb for believing it. I think, at one point, I was actually racist toward myself. It was things like 'That guy's probably giving me that dirty look because of my skin color' or 'I'm sorry for messing up, I swear, not all people of my race are trash at life'. I think I'm just angry. I was angry at you, but I was mostly angry at myself. Y'know, even though you sent me all that horrible stuff, I still kept reading." He shifted the pillow on his lap, adjusting the dusty old laptop that perched in the center. "I believed you. I wanted to know what you were saying about me, because as far as I knew, you'd never lied to me. You called me a 'hideous piece of shit' once, and my first thought was 'ha, yeah, you're right, though.'" He brought up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, brows furrowed. "I know I said that this was meant for everyone who's messed me up, but I'm starting to think that 90% of it was me. Maybe this should've been an open letter to myself." A loud bang echoed through the room as a door slammed shut. He jumped, eyes as wide as saucers. His hands flew as he scrambled to slam the screen of his laptop down. The video ended.