Writing for a Cause

4. Desperate for Attention

Frank's POV

It was Sunday.

Gerard was currently out drinking coffee with Lindsey, and I was once again sitting in the comfort of the supply closet.

It was pleasing to see that the last note I read was gone. I was just happy that someone was reading them. Some people might have left them alone, assuming that some emo shit was just writing for the sake of writing. But not me, I was writing for a cause.

The cause is actually quite hard to explain, however.

I have a certain hope. My hope is that someone will care enough to come talk to me about my writings. To get to that point, a list of steps needs to be completed.
1: I write the notes.
2: Someone finds them and reads them.
3: They eventually come to me and ask about them.
4: I tell them about the notes and we become close.

So far, the first two steps had already been completed.

Was this a selfish thing to do? Of course it was. Did I care though? Of course I didn't.

In all truth, I was just desperate for someone to actually care about me. Knowing that someone is actually picking up my notes and reading them makes me happy. I didn't have to know who that person was quite yet in order to be joyed.

There was truly only one way you could describe me: a hopeless romantic.

The whole reason I started writing things like this was because I had a whole theory about love going on.

Here's my theory. Basically, when you love someone, you are practically invested in their life. So surely, someone who is invested enough in my life to care about my notes and read them, cares about me at least to some extent. If I ever met this person, I would strive to have a romantic relationship with them. Firstly though, I had to figure out how to go about this.

I am attracted to both boys and girls. I'm bisexual. However, I could only hide my notes in the boys dorms, for obvious reasons. I can't just enter the girls dorms during the day and hide in the closet for multiple hours at a time. What kind of perverted shit would I look like then? So yes, I picked the perfect spot to keep my notes: the supply closet in the guys dorm.

Why a supply closet you might ask? Well, I'm not too sure either. I was just looking for a place that would make the notes easy to find, but specific to remember.

Then I began writing my notes. The first one was a supposed letter addressed to someone named 'Adam.' In reality, Adam could represent any person. I was never talking about anyone I knew in real life, but the name was rather a symbol that could fill in the blank for anyone you wanted it to represent.

After writing the letter, I kept it in the closet. Hopefully, someone would find it. Hopefully, someone would read it. Hopefully, someone would actually try to understand it. Hopefully, someone would take the time to read it over and decipher it. Hopefully, someone would care enough. Thankfully, that all seemed to be happening.

I would keep writing letters for as long as I need to. I've made it my goal to write one every day, and hope that the reader keeps picking them up.

Maybe I would be able to fall in love.

With all these thoughts running through my brain, I picked up my green pen and began writing once again. The tone of the particular poem matched my emotions perfectly.

I want to fall in love
I want to be in control
I don't care if I get hurt
Or if it takes a toll

I want to be able to live
I want to be able to fly
I want to be able to see
I want to be able to try