yours sincerely | irwin au

un

september, 14th 2013

dear whoever,
i hope i dont annoy you by sending these, i just felt like getting things off my chest. you know, life is hard.
especially with all your so called friends suddenly stopping to talk to you.

i feel like writing is my only rescue, my only resort, my only little piece of happiness, my little infinity where nobody else is trying to invade my mind.

thats all they ever do, try to invade my mind and thoughts. i cant go a day without some of them trying to get me to do something i dont really want, or trying to intimidate me.

it all started around four months ago, they started talking less to me until they stopped completely. they did a complete one-eighty with their personalities. i always thought they were my best friends, the best things that ever happened to me.

but i was wrong. when i realized it was going downhill, i started smoking, drinking also. my pack of cigarettes actually is right next to the paper that i'm writing on right now. i hope you dont mind.

this will probably never even be read anyways, since the adress is the old abandoned house down the road. whatever. back to topic, i feel miserable, horrible.

i feel like i have nobody left. my mom drinks and sleeps around, sad to say it but shes a literal wh.ore. she doesnt care about me at all.

and my dad? well, he left us when i was seven. so you see, i have literally no one.
okay, wrong.

i have one friend left. one. the one person that didnt leave me, ever. his name is michael. i love him heaps, hes my best friend ever, but he has a girlfriend that doesnt like me at all. i mean, she hates me with all her cells.

i can totally understand michael when he says he cant really spend time with me because of her, but you know, i always thought friendship before relationship... i dont think i can write much more, my hand begins to shake.

i really need a cigarette right now, i'm sorry.

yours sincerely,
fleur

I put my pen down, getting up from where I sat on the floor. I neatly folded the letter and put it into a envelope, placing it on my desk carefully.

Grasping my pack of cigarettes and my lighter I got out on my balcony. I lit the cigarette that stuck between my lips, inhaling deeply into my lungs. Letting the nicotine relax my body I leaned against the railing and stared down the street.

My eyes landed on the old abandoned building that I was going to send my letter to. The willow in the garden of the house softly danced in the wind. I finished my cigarette and flipped it into the wind.

Back inside I closed the envelope and put a stamp on it.

-

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