you taught me ABC order.
you taught me to rollerblade.
you taught me about limp bizkit.
you taught me the words to "danger zone".

you gave me my first taste of anger,
gave me my first feelings of terror.
how anyone could feel so much, all at once,
and let it out at something so mundane,
[your punching bag]
and still scare me so much is beyond me.

you gave me my first taste of alcohol.
miller lite, and i hated it.
you made me drink more, because well,
"it's an acquired taste, you know, like wine."
in later years you'd say the same of ***.

i still don't know how i let it happen, really.
one minute we were friends,
and no one really knew how close.
the next minute your hand was in my pants,
and that's the last place i wanted it.

in the next minute we're on the phone,
you somehow got my number.
you're apologizing, and crying.
i've never heard you cry before,
"what the hell is going on, a?"

give you a second chance? to do what?
to apologize? you never had a first chance.
meet you where? when? tonight?
"you know i can't do that."
then again, if you're leaving in the morning.
just this once, for you. i need the closure.

i still feel like i asked for it,
i don't know if that will ever change.
in the middle of the night, still,
i wake up, convinced i'm bleeding.

soaking through my sheets just like that night.
it stains my skin in a way that will never wash off.
the glint on your knife from the moon that night?
leaves a scar that will never fade away.
unlike the one on my thigh. it's gone now.

you took so much from me.
you took my innocence,
and i'm not just talking virginity.
every single person i look in the eye,
i can see potential.
the potential for destruction.

we are none of us born good or evil.
some of us are just good, with evil tendencies.
you, though. you're something else.
evil, with sadistic tendencies.
you're a ******* monster.

but i have nothing to say to you anymore.
i wish you nothing but the worst.
[i hope your **** hurts where i bit it.]
and i hope you hear my screams when you sleep,
every
single
night.

i remember the first time we really clicked, you know.
back in seventh grade, a lifetime ago.
part of me says i was sitting on a bed, and you on the floor.
but it might've been the other way around.
i feel like we talked about the sky. but maybe it was the moon?
it doesn't matter, we thought it was deep, something special.
something only the two of us understood.
[i think we were just suffering from exhaustion.
it was awfully early by then.
or awfully late.]

that year was my worst.
yours, too.
seventh grade never treats anyone well.
we stayed friends, carried 'our' notebook to and from class.
took it home on alternating weekends, to stay caught up.
this was back when no one had texting.
we made it through, in one piece.
[our hearts may have been in pieces, however.]

eighth grade rolled around. we shared one class, french 1.
i paid too much attention to you and our lives,
not nearly enough on the class. i scraped by with a b.
[i knew french was only to be admired.
you told me french was mine if i wanted it.]

we were inseperable or distant in high school, due to so many things.
your boyfriend[s]. my catastrophes.
i lived my days defending you,
and my nights crying because of you.
i never felt good enough in your eyes.

eventually, i changed.
you changed too, but you just got older.
i matured. i grew stronger.
i stopped taking **** from people.
yes, even you.

but we're at a point where we can be friends.
or friendly, if you prefer.
but also not acknowledge each other in the hall.

your tattoo, it reads, "stay gold, ponyboy."
and when i saw it, i cried.
i cried for every time we watched that together.
every time we won't see it together.
you were a good friend to me, even with your faults.
you forced me to grow and change or die trying.
and i can't thank you enough.

[your sarakan loves you, loved you.]
i do miss you, but i can't handle having you back.
stay gold, beautiful meadow.
you better stay ******* gold.

Hey, Cass.

I’m doing this letter challenge. A letter a day for thirty days.
That’s a third of our whirlwind summer.
Today’s topic is, “someone you miss the most”.
And at first, I didn’t think of anyone.
You weren’t even in the list of possible people.
But something triggered something, and you sashayed your way into my head.
And you’ve been stuck there for awhile.
So, this will be about you. Because now that I’m thinking of you, I miss you.
I miss you so much there’s a hole in my chest where my heart belongs.
I spent all of sixth grade on the other side of Professor’s classroom.
I watched you and the boys simultaneously befriend and annoy everyone.
Except me. I don’t know how, but I couldn’t feel anything either way.
Except when we started writing in English class. I don’t know.
I don’t remember much of what you wrote, except it was dark and scary and…
I loved it.
You had the best way of taking the nastiest words and making them beautiful.
I don’t remember the details, though. Isn’t that strange?
You did always tell me to look at the big picture. I’m still working on that.
And, anyway, nothing much happened until the birthday party.
The surprise one, where Amy picked up all the guests one by one from their houses for breakfast.
Sort of a reverse surprise party, and I told you, “this is the only surprise party I’ve ever had.”
And you tactfully reminded me it wasn’t for me, and I told you, “it’s close enough.”
We went to breakfast, and talked about how creepy the indoor balcony was, you know which one.
The one with the chain hanging over the edge. We shared a glance, and I knew we had to talk.
So we did. The entire day, we talked and talked and talked. Antisocial as they come, the both of us.
You almost convinced your mom to let you stay the night, but no. You left for Tennessee the next day.
That night, I pieced together and guessed the letters of your screen name.
[It had melted mostly off my arm by then.]
I found you, right as you found me. We both said, “found you,” at the same time.
We always connected in the most creepy ways.
And anyway,  we talked all that night. And the next. And the next.
I skipped sleepovers and birthdays and we talked our way through the summer.
I learned so much about you, from you. Too much.
And then you started cutting. And cutting. And cutting.
And then you went away for two weeks. I missed you so much it hurt to breathe.
You came back, and actually called me. I hadn’t heard your voice in two months.
Except for in my head, anyway. You told me how the asylum was.
“It’s the most beautiful place in the world, Sarah. I’ve never been so happy.”
We both agreed it was probably the drugs, and we laughed in our somber way.
You started writing more, and talking less.
You started cutting more, and smiling.
I just stopped altogether. School had started again.
I was talking to your ex-boyfriend’s best friend, and it seemed like he took your place.
Then one night, you weren’t there at all. Two weeks, I waited.
I called your house. Your number was disconnected.
I spent hours and hours and hours rereading our conversations.
I was scared of you, the absence of you.
But I was scared of us, too. You ****** me in, like quicksand.
But I never even knew. I’ve never seen you again.
Never spoken to you again.
I can’t explain our relationship to anyone.
The only one who understood what I couldn’t explain was your ex.
And well, I don’t like him anyway. So I pushed you away.
Very successfully, I hadn’t thought of you in years.
Until this letter, until these two girls who remind me of you.
They **** me in like quicksand, too. One of them’s gone already.
One of them is going to leave. And I’m so, so scared of all of you.
But god, Cassie, our entire summer was based on our fears.
So I guess you’d be proud.
Wherever you are, darkest angel, I do miss you.
I think, maybe I might have loved you. But we’ll never know.
Dance with your demons, and make sure you lead.
Don’t be afraid to step on their toes.

-Your favorite demon.

uncle harley-

i don't even know where you are right now.
you don't even know the person i am right now.
but i miss you, because you lit up my childhood.
i remember your jeep, and getting stuck in the mud.
all those hills are covered in condominiums now.
i remember my sister sitting on your shoulders,
patting your head over and over.

but that was a long time ago.
hell, you might not even be bald now.
you might not even have a motorcycle anymore.
but, you know, you'll always be uncle harley.
you should stop by and visit.
i think you'd be proud of who i've become.

having lived in california until i was seven,
and then moving to virginia beach for one year,
and then living in chesapeake for the rest of my life,
my childhood feels scattered.

i don't remember california all that well.
i remember palm trees lining the streets,
and listening to shania twain with my mom.
i remember the ben & jerry's on a corner,
and i remember the two boxers next door.

i remember two people, too. mostly, anyway.
there's you, jacob. and you, kayla.

jacob, you were my first real friend.
our families were inseparable,
we lived right next door to each other.
we were inseparable too.

i remember digging around in the garden,
that we quickly turned into a mud bog.
i remember you having chicken pox,
and our moms letting us play together.
[funny, i didn't get it until i was nine.]

i remember watching you crash,
all the blood on your dirtbike and face.
i remember visiting your school...first grade.
god, two years seemed like such a huge difference.

i remember throwing you a softball,
and you missed it, and got a ****** nose.
i think that was the first time i felt guilt.

but most of all, i remember that game.
with the dinosaurs, and a big field,
and an even bigger maze inside.
and, of course, your room.
your twin sized bed, and the huge bean bag.
even then we couldn't close the door.

we received your pictures for a long time.
so i feel like i might recognize you on the street.
but not for who you are, really. more of a...
deja vu type of thing, if you will.
i miss you, distantly. but deeply.

and kayla, well.
what i remember most of us...
is the purple jewelry box full of notes.
because you were always grounded.
then i think about making mud pies,
as we sat on the fence between us.
and...unfortunately, that one night.
the raid, and not seeing you again.
hiding the notes, until they stopped.
i think you gave me my first broken heart.
but it's okay, i forgive you. it stopped hurting...
oh, about ten years ago. i think of you, though.
i hope your parents cleaned up,
and i like to think you're happy.

you two represent my innocence.
my childhood. thank you.
i miss it so very much.

i swore to myself i'd never write to you.
because that would make all of it too real.
and if this ever gets to you, well.
i guess i can just hope for the best,
because if i were to lose you before our time was up,
i simply wouldn't be okay.

i've thought about you every day since i met you.
the attitude behind the thoughts changes.
sometimes by the hour, sometimes by the day.
but one thing always stays the same:
i love you. with all of me.
i shouldn't, but i do. and it runs so deep.
i can't cut it out, i can't bleed it out.
i can't smoke it out, i can't drink it out.
but god, i wish i could.
and god knows i've tried.

because i spend every night wondering if you'll be alive in the morning.
and i spend every day wondering if you're disappearing again.
and i spend every moment we're together missing you.
you might stand next to me, or lay with me, or tickle me,
and i miss you so much it almost kills me with every breath.
i've told you all of this, and you said something along the lines of,
"i know. you know **** well i care about you. i've always come back."
and, of course, you're right. about all of it. you're always right.

"sarah, you tell me everything. always."
of course, you're right. since the beginning, i've told you everything.
every thought i have, every crazy theory, every ridiculous dream.
you know it all. and you know you know it all, and that's even worse.
you know me better than i know myself, and you keep me in line.
i like to say that's why i keep you around, but it's more than that.
you keep me as sane as i'm going to be, and all i want is to please you.

i ask you too many questions, most of them stupid, but i can't help it.
i just want to hear your voice, all the time, as much as possible.
because i know one day i'll never, ever hear it again. and that, well.
that's not something i like to think about.

i waste too much gas and create ******* reasons and eat too much,
just to keep you in the passenger seat of my car. your seat.
because i know one day you won't sit in it again.
and it's your seat, now. it doesn't look right with someone else in it.
i play your music too loud and let you kick my radio when it skips,
because i can't say no to you, and you know it.

i can't lie to you, either. not successfully.
i can ******* my way around my reasons for texting you,
but you've got me figured out. you know when i'm avoiding.
you let me do it anyway.

i've told you before, but i'll say it here too.
i love listening to you sing. you don't it that often, but.
i like to pretend that maybe, you only sing with me.
i also like to pretend that maybe, i know you a little.
i don't hold a candle to dylan, of course. i know that much.
but...i like to pretend i'm special, to you.

you used to call me babe, and baby, and tell me good night.
"good night, love you, sleep well," i'd say. and you'd say,
"good night, i love you too. get some sleep tonight."
and well, i guess if i said it to you know you'd say it back.
and you'd mean it, because i now you'd always tell the truth.
but i can't bring myself to, because you're so empty now.

you've always been the apathetic one of the bunch,
but it's different now, and everyone's noticed it.
and i hate it, because i can't let you go. they have, but i can't.
so i see the difference in your eyes, and live for when they light up again.
but a part of me dies every second they aren't.
it's so infrequent, these days. i wish i was the one who could wake you up.

the funniest part about all of this is i don’t want you.
i don’t dare want you as mine.
everyone asks me if we’re dating. if you’re my boyfriend.
i end up telling them three, four times, “no. i don’t want him.”
and they end up believing me, but they still see it.
and i want to break everyone into little pieces for that.
because they can see it, i can feel it, and i want nothing to do with it.
i’d give you anything you’d ever ask me for.
and that scares me, so much, but i haven’t left you yet.
because you’re leaving me, anyway.
manhattan, california, europe.
death.

it doesn’t matter how, when, or why. i love you now, i loved you then, i will always love you.
i’ll never know if i’m in love with you, because life will never give us a chance.
life is kind of a really smart *******, but i hate it all the same.
it gave you to me and constantly threatens to take you away on a cloud of ecstasy.
or shrooms, or acid, or ***, or alcohol.

and what i just realized, this very second, is that whenever we hug and i say goodbye?
you say, “see you later.”
please tell me that’s a promise.

please.

my dearest will,

you've always brought out the worst in me.
and i kind of have to love you for that.
you know my deepest secrets,
the dark ones and the embarassing ones.

you know i'm a sucker for anything romantic,
but keep the shakespeare to a minimum.
you know i'd give anything to share your bed,
with you, your cat, and a bottle of ***.

you've taken me back three times now,
and i kind of think you shouldn't have.
you know i love you in my own way,
the way no one else will, hopefully.

you know i'm not in love with you,
but i love the way you bite your lip.
you know i'd keep you up all night,
with just me on my hands and knees.

you know i can only talk this way with you,
the words just fall before i can stop them.
you've forever been my ***** little secret,
and i kind of think you like it that way.

you've told me so many times you love me,
but i've laughed them all away.
you know i'd like to say it back,
'with wisdom and conviction beyond my years'.

but this is all you can have of me,
the pieces nobody else wants.
i'm sorry, let's meet up one day.
we can tour nova scotia.

i'll let you kiss my tears away,
and i'll erase your scars.
"how do i say goodbye to you, christmas?"
"you don't, william. we never said hello."