A Letter To Her

      I don’t know why I’m writing you this letter, seeing as you’ll never read it anyways. I guess it’s just to apologize. For ruining your life forever, for making you miserable. For so many things.
      I found that strip of pictures we took in a photobooth that one time we went to the carnival together. Do you remember that? It wasn’t even much fun, seeing as it started raining after about an hour. I just liked being with you. They’re all crappy pictures. Half of them are blurry, and we’re not even looking at the camera. The whole strip is so old and wrinkled, I almost ripped it when I picked it up.
     Still, as I held it in my hands, I felt like crying. We looked so damn happy that day, you and me holding hands and grinning like idiots. You were wearing that stupid party hat you bought at a garage sale, remember? You lost it later that week. I found it after a month under my bed, but I never gave it to you.
      Those are the times I will always remember. The times with you. That one golden year. I’ll always remember my hand on your hot back as we sat under the stars. I’ll always remember wiping cold ice cream off your lip with my finger. I’ll always remember the look in your eyes when we cuddled together on the Ferris Wheel, two girls completely in a dream.
I’ll always remember the look on your face when Eddie Franchesko called you a lesbian.
Anyways, you probably remember that too. You definitely remember it. On account of what happened afterwards.
     I’m sorry I took a running dive at him. I think I knew at the time I was making it worse, but I was just so angry. We were in middle school at the time"we weren’t the best at controlling emotions, you know that. At any rate, I know I shouldn’t have smacked him in the face with his own schoolbook. That was wrong.
     You were so beautiful back then. I remember everything. I really do. I remember the way you smiled in that adorable way. I remember how I’d make you blush, and how my stomach would swoop whenever you did. You had the cutest legs, too.
     Granted, I did know something was wrong when we came back to school. The hallways were too quiet around us. I didn’t know why. Didn’t they think we were still friends? You hadn’t blown our cover, I was sure of it. You were too shy. Too goddamn sweet and shy. Oh, how I loved you.
     But Eddie Franchesko, that b*****d. He ruined everything, didn’t he? I always hated him. His loud laugh, his curly blonde hair, his cutting mouth. That mouth of his could cut apart anything. He was angry, too. Angry and dumb, that was Eddie fricking Franchesko. God, I hated him. I still do. He was horrible for what he did to you. Horrible for doing it in the middle of class.
     I tried to control myself, I really did. But you were crying so hard and Eddie was smiling so terribly, and all I could think about was how beautiful you had looked before and how heartbroken you looked now and how horrible you must feel, so I did it.
      There’s really no reason to recount what I did, because I’m sure you remember it as well as I do" you know, me pushing Eddie out of the way and kissing you as hard as I could. I don’t know what was going through your head, but all I was thinking about was how I wanted to make you happy again, so I kissed you and kissed you and tried to kiss all your tears away, tried to make you stop crying, tried to make you laugh like you’d laughed before.
       The worst part is, I could taste Eddie in the kiss. I could taste his foul breath still on your precious lips"God, I hate him. He ruined everything. That sonuvabitch ruined everything.
       I don’t know how you felt it, but when I looked up from your gorgeous face, the first thing I knew was terror. Did you see their faces? They were horrified. I can still remember how disgusted the teacher looked. I always hated Mrs. Hill. Her and her stupid haircuts and the way she used to mispronounce “Antarctic”. And after she pointed and screamed at us to get out of her classroom, you dirty lesbians, I hated her even more.
         Anyways, you already know all of that. The real reason I wrote this was to apologize for what happened afterwards, because it’s all my fault. It really is.

So I know why you didn’t show up for school the next day, because the bruises on your face and the smirks of the schoolboys told the whole story. But I was afraid to ask you if I could walk you to school, in case it made things worse.

            I should have though. I would have taken out the whole lot of those filthy b******s if they’d come for you again.

 I often wonder why they never came for me. I guess it was because I was tough and I was strong, and they knew that they shouldn’t mess with me. So they hurt you instead, because they knew it killed me every time. And I’m so, so sorry for that. I’m crying right now, just remembering it all. God, junior high was a hell. It really was.

The next few days were the same. I remember staring at you across the classroom, wanting to go and talk to you and apologize for everything. I heard your mom kicked you out of the house for a whole night, and she wasn’t speaking to you. I heard Eddie and his stupid friends had cornered you after school and tried to kiss you again. I had completely ruined your life.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t try to help. I couldn’t, or else they’d tease you harder. And what adults would come to my aid, a s****y, filthy lesbian sinner like me?

I’m sorry I wasn’t there to comfort you when your skirt was pulled down by the girls in the courtyard. I’m sorry I didn’t help you scrub “F*G” off your schoolbooks.

I would have. Don’t you see? You know I would have saved you in the blink of an eye. But I knew it would make things worse. Well, I thought I knew. I’m not sure now. I’m not sure of anything now. I’m sorry if you thought I had left you for good. I never left you. Everything that happened to you killed me, you know it did"I loved you. You must have known how much you meant to me. They hurt me just as much as they hurt you.

Junior high was a hell. It really was. But I hoped we’d get out of it together. Remember when we’d hide behind the bushes in my backyard and make lists of the meanest people in the school? Remember that? Those were the happiest days of my life.

You must have felt horrible, I’m realized. God, I was a fool. I wish more than anything I could go back in time. And stop ignoring. And give you a hug. And damn what all those ignorant fools thought, because we were in love, and it was marvelous.

You must have been heartbroken when I didn’t talk to you. I broke my own heart when I didn’t talk to you. How could we talk, how could we even look at each other with Eddie and his cronies surrounding us at every time, and saying the most horrible things?

But I did try to talk to you once. Do you remember that day? When I caught up to you and grabbed your scarf? You turned around"God, I can still see the look in your eyes. It took my breath away, that look. Those beautiful eyes. I love your eyes, did you know that? It almost killed me. But then you turned back around. What was it like from your point of view? Did you know how much you hurt me? Had I hurt you, too? I’ll never know. At the time, it was the saddest moment of my life.

Later it was one of those beautiful moments, because it was the last time I’d ever seen you for real again.

 I ran after you. Why did you run? Why wouldn’t you talk to me? You know it broke my heart. And the worst part is, you still looked so cute as you dashed away.

Why did you run?

            And why did you never come back?

I never saw you again after that day, except for once later. Even when we graduated, the principal just skipped over your name. You should have seen me when I graduated. I was all sweaty in my gown and everything. Damn near tripped over my own feet when I was getting my diploma. The principal glared at me.

Nobody knew what had happened to you. But when I found out, I was devastated. I really was.

I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. And I always will.

I’m sorry for all the hell I put you through. Lucky it’s over, huh? That’s a terrible thing for me to say, but it’s true.

I remember going to your funeral. I dressed like a boy, so nobody would know it was me. You even looked beautiful in your goddamn coffin, and I cried so hard I had to stuff my fist in my mouth before anyone would notice.

Who was it? Who pushed you over the edge? Was it Eddie? Was it your mother? Was it a girl from school?

Was it me?

Who were you thinking of when you tightened the noose? Because I’ll kill them, I really will. Who made you that miserable? And if it was me, I’ll even kill myself. I really will.  I’m sorry for loving you.

 

 

Author's Note

Ignore the screwed-up format... :P
And I wrote this in a very different style than I'm used to.. sort of a Catcher In The Rye/Hemingway feel. I don't know if I'm good at it or not.
Anyway, please critique! Be honest, no sugarcoating!