To whom it may concern:

Dear Person I Wish I Could Be,

You already know all of this. There’s no reason to go into explicit details.

—Michelle

Dear Person From My Childhood,

Honestly, I really don’t feel like writing this. I don’t find you that important. But I might as well.

We met in the second grade. Haylee thought I stole you from her. She was just bitter that she didn’t have any friends anymore.

BFF’s. Except not really…? We never hung out outside of school, which is an odd concept, but oh well. And we fought waaaaay too much to be best friends. And I absolutely hated that I apologized for every single one of those fights even though every single one of those fights were not my fault.

And then in fourth grade, you finally publicly took in the person I hated the most as your friend. I told you I didn’t care (when I did), and I let you be friends with her without my bitch comments. But it started then that our best friends title was reduced to friends. But I still was friends with you. I talked to you and invited you to my birthday parties. In which, I didn’t realize until a few years after elementary school, but you gave me the worst presents that you probably didn’t buy until the day before or day of. Or sometimes afterward, considering you told me sometimes, “oh, i forgot it in the car.” And my 11th birthday party, how you left without even telling me. It was probably 10 or 11. You asked to use the phone or before I knew it, your mom was here to pick you up.

We stopped talking after elementary school. We went to different middle schools. And you freaking trashed talked me on your blog on myspace, and then denied it when I confronted you. We go the same high school now. I wouldn’t dare befriend you again, not only did you trash talk me and lie to me. You’re one of those “popular” girls who wear trashy clothing.

But don’t you worry, you aren’t as low as some people on my Bitch List.

—Michelle

Dear Person Not in my State,

We met in the eighth grade and it was mine and sarah’s mission (laaaawl, mission middle school, mission) to make you quote “cool”. You just moved here from Virginia even though you lived here in your early years, oh to be a military kid. (IN WHICH YOU WERE A GOODY-GOODY! sigh, that probably doesn’t even bother you anymore.) anyway, you sat in the front of the bus like a lame seventh grader, so we pushed you to the back, made you do academically higher things like quiz bowl and such.

You were my go to person. You understood me and even when you didn’t you tried. You told it like it was. You didn’t care, and plainly showed you care or lack of care for things. Like lady bugs and schoolwork, respectively. We had so many good memories, especially as SPAMmers. I liked your like for sorta eccentric things like your paper clip earrings, your hershey kiss wrapper earrings, your safety pin earrings, your getting in trouble because of your either beer or flogging Molly shirts, your bottlecap belt, your want to dye your hair white and have triangles for the ends. Oh and how you absolutely hated when people didn’t call you by your full name. I wonder if that’s still a fact.

I was gonna miss you so much. Gonna leave me alone in high school by moving back to virginia. When you did leave, I still called you every once in a while to catch up. I remember when I called you and you talked about allllll your Asian friends who were like me and how I wanted to be in your position and how my life sucked at the moment because all my former friends were ditching me. Then it just stopped. We stopped talking to each other, just how long distance works.

I can tell you’ve changed. But then again, so did I. But I thought you’d never changed, you were always so independent, your own person. Then all of sudden changing your rocker style into a sorta cutesy girl style that you were never really for, and only saw me as one. Then you moved to Illinois the next year. I only knew through fb. I wanted to go to science olympiad nationals so badly so I could see you. Sorry I came up two points short… And now you’re moving to jersey, is it? So I’ll probably never get the chance to see you again.

—Michelle

My little sister.

I would always tell her my life. My older sister does the same.

I have a new crush and I don’t want to tell her. It ends up that she always tells my older sister and if I wanted to tell her, I would.

She spent the last ten minutes on my bed, begging me to tell her.

I wouldn’t. I refuse.

Dear Person(s) I Miss the Most,

To be quite honest, I wasn’t planning on writing this one. I was planning on skipping it because I couldn’t think of anyone, but after what happened tonight, I figured out whom to write about.

I miss you (guys). If there ever was multiple of your ‘type’. You know, the type that don’t bail or make you feel like shit or tell you things that make you quit a balloono match with your sisters to go upstairs and cry.

You people were nice and the only type of crying I did because if you were either laughing or being so touched by what you just did. You know, you who knew I was upset a few hours/a couple days ago and would IM me to make sure I was doing okay or talked to me hours on end for my petty, little problems that I was hypocritical about irl, but still assured me that I was in the right. I just miss your comfort for all my bitchassness.

It’s because I didn’t appreciate you as much as you deserved, because I pushed you aside once my life was ‘nice and dandy’, isn’t it? Sorry. All of you, I really am.

—Michelle

My contact slipped and slided all over my eye while I was crying and then became stuck to the back of my eye.

I was so freaking scared.

I can’t stand you anymore.

I’d just like to tell you:

Stop cussing up a storm. =.= You’re not even mad or anything. It’s like you use it as regular vocabulary.

She talks bad about me alllll the time to my dad and adds things that I didn’t even say or that she didn’t even ask.

I’m sitting in my room, reading and downstairs, I hear my mother, once again, talking bad about me.
She’s telling my dad some kind of nonsense that I refused to help with the lights I want set up for my party.
UHM, no. You asked me how I wanted them set up and you being foreign, you couldn’t understand. And yes, I got angry and yelled.

However, there’s no need to make me look even worse by saying I wouldn’t help. YOU DIDN’T EVEN ASK ME THAT. Along with, DUH, I would help. It’s my party, I want it done. I’m not one of those brats from my super sweet sixteen. And plus, the most you’ve contributed at the moment is gardening.

I love talking about my sixteenth birthday party and invitations on facebook.

She’ll log on and see it on her newsfeed. Then, she’ll be reminded that she is a biiiiish.

Oh, I’m such a bish.

Alllll my gay friends who were still in the closet when I met them and then later came out, lied to me.

I would ask them if they were gay. They would lie. I would defend them. They would come out. I would look stupid.

Examples:
One. Robert: middle school. We were alone, doing a project or something. “People accuse you all the time. Are you gay?” “No, I’m not. I promise.” “Alright. I was just wondering.”
Then everytime someone made fun of him by calling him gay, I would defend him. He came out a few months afterwards.

Two. Christian: high school. “Band is so much fun. I think I already have a crush.” “Ooooo, is she pretty?” “Yeah, she’s so pretty.”
talking to my other friend about him. “He’s so gay.” “Whaaat, no he’s not. I mean he sure acts metro. But he has a crush on some girl.” “Well, then he lied. Because he is definitely gay. I swear, he told me.”

Three. Josh: high school. “They kept asking me if I’m gay and stuff and I’m just like ‘suck it.’” “Well, that’s dumb. Obviously, you’re not gay since you’re getting so angry. They’re being dumb and so judging.”
then I would hear allll the time: “Josh is sooooo gay.” “No, he’s not. He told me straight up. It aggravates him. Stop.”
about a month later. “Oop, I’m gay.”

Aweeeesome.

Dear Person I’ve Drifted Away From,

Oh, hmmm, sigh. We were so close. We used to talk all the time. But isn’t that how all drifted stories go. We weren’t normal like that.

Science Olympiad, my ninth grade year, your eighth. It was the greatest. The only reason I liked school. So anxious to hop into the car after school and get driven to mission, and instead of practice, talk to you lovelies. :3 Especially nationals and after. Our team gossip and rocky horror greatness.

Oooooh god, the gossip shared between us. An abyss wouldn’t be big enough to put all that information in. But now, we aren’t on the dame teams anymore. I only saw you once every couple of weeks and for short periods of time. Our regular, fun-filled fb chats dissolved into boring, “what are you doing?” conversation. We don’t really know each other anymore. Our news can’t relate, because we go to different schools.

I miiiiiiiiss you. And now you’re my science olympiad rival. /:

—Michelle