You're a walking overreaction
When something doesn't go your way
You think it's everlasting
And when the heart inside your cold chest
Doesn't get a response
You blame it on unhappiness

I think it's over, all of those complaints
But when they start again
I wonder if you ever learned restraint
Sometimes it's easy
But most of the time
I can barely stand you speaking

You're still a child
Somewhere, out there
There must someone who likes your style
I'll bet they're crazy
It doesn't matter how hard you try
It ain't me

Can you believe it?
Somebody near you
Doesn't like it when you talk ****
Maybe you should try this
When a thought comes in your head
Don't just say it, maybe filter it

He’s not like the others,
he’s not even a wholly likable child.

I mean, he has the cute face
high squeaky voice
chipmunk cheeks.

It’s his personality,
his attitude,
it’s the fact that he’s only 7 years old
and already hates the majority of what he’s seen of this wide world.

It’s the fact that he manipulates everyone’s words
until he’s made the collage that meets his ideal visage.

He’s more than a handful.
He’s even more than a whole village’s armful.

And though I know a part of its’ the diagnosis
it’s hard to keep that in mind
all the time.

(It’s hard to forgive an unlikable child)

Even harder as he swings insults your way,

as you have to take off running after him for the nth time this week.

It’s hard keeping a straight face,
keeping the unflappable demeanor
through every offense.

It’s hard not to scream,
curse,
cry,
  to remain the calm island in the face of the raging tempest.

But you have to.
(Even though he’s not the most likable child)

He is still a child.

And you’re loving compassion is stronger than his self destruction.

This tough front,
This altogether unlikeable first impression,
This mean, crude obnoxious scumbag,
This despicable misogynist,
This cynical misanthropic madman,
“Wassup wit dat?”
Enquiring fans of poetry want to know.
Simply stated, 'tis my oldest modus operandi,
Self-protective, learned street behavior;
My don’t-****-with–me first line of defense.
Surely some form of survival mechanism;
Meant in the narrow psychological sense.
Evidence of mental health or illness,
My cloaking device and shield,
Gift from Jove, my goombah father.
Dad: a powerful force in any child’s universe—
Be the patriarch dead, absent, retired on the job,
Out of the picture, just plain missing--or insane,
The latter, something you may not
Want to know about your gene pool.

So I’m really just a *****.
Forgive the expression, Germaine Greer.
A pussycat and big old teddy bear,
Mr. Sensitivity:
Wiping a warm washcloth between your legs.
Across puffed & pouted lips, gently.
After shooting a load of *** into you.
Or on your face: Spumante!

No, strike that last part.
Let’s start again.
I am a kind soul, a precious man.
The sort who likes animals;
Puppies, especially, and kittens too.
Savoring sunsets and flowers,
I serve you sweet gelato & Asti.
Sometimes I’ll spumante you with original love poetry.
My Muse: your gorgeous body delights me,
Your brilliant mind & noble spirit inspires.
Each night of the week I surprise you,
Prepare for you an exquisite home-cooked gourmet meal.
Served with your favorite Pinot Noir,
Brought to your elegant, candlelit dining room table,
By yours truly, wearing only a scarlet bow tie
And black silk jockstrap.
(Starting to get into this, Maureen Dowd?)
Later I’ll run you a relaxing bath,
So you’ll have something to do,
While I wash the dishes, scrub the pots,
Do a load of whites, clean your bidet,
And Swiffer®  (www.swiffer.com) the entire house.

By then, you are ready for your nightly spa treatment,
A 15-minute, deep tissue massage,
Followed by a hot oil treatment.
Next up is 30 nonstop delirious minutes,
Me, going down on you, without
Seeking any ****** gratification for myself.
In the morning I’ll make macadamia nut pancakes,
Your favorite, and brew you a fabulous cup of coffee,
From freshly ground beans, very rare beans
Salvaged from Karen Blixen’s last crop, before the fire
Completely destroyed her plantation in Kenya.
"I had a farm in Africa, Babaloo!

You can go shopping from dawn to dusk
With Ruth Madoff, while I go out & lose my soul,
Selling Dominican Republic timeshares all day and all night . . .  
(Cue West Indies Calypso: “All Day, All Night, Mary Ann!”)
Calypso-Harry Belafonte Songs, Reviews, Credits,
Awards www.allmusic.com/album/calypso. 1956.)
I’ll still find the time to open up for you
A line of credit at your favorite nail salon.
I’ll pay for weekly bikini waxes, hair and Botox treatments,
And the odd cosmetic surgery you may require.
I’ll pay your cell phone bill; I’ll pay off your college loans.
I’ll send money to your extended family in the Ukraine.
Yeah, that’s the kind of guy I am.
Your life with me will be every woman’s dream.

And, if you believe that,
You soulless Ukrainian ****,
Then monkeys will fly out of my Wayne’s World ****,
You stupid capital C for ****-*******,
Capital B for *****.
THIS JUST IN:
“Arms and the Woman,”
An article in Time Magazine, conveys a statistic:
Some 20 million women in the U.S. own guns.
As the NRA instructs:
Guns don’t **** people.
Women with Glocks **** people.

I only like you because you're my best friend.
If I didn't like you so much,
I'd hate your guts
because everything about you is so unlikeable

but you're my best friend,
so I kind of like you a lot.

When I was 6 years old,
I was told I was too much.
Keep it to yourself they'd scold,
you're unlikeable, not bold.
Unique is the opposite of gold,
so my personality took a toll.
And no matter how much strength I would hold
Nobody liked me,
so I had to fold.

I was left out when I was in grade eight.
Apparently I changed myself too late.
I did everything for everyone
hoping for a clean slate.
Yet I'd already met my fate.
There was no retake,
only resentment and hate.
I needed distraction,
so I started to fill my plate.

Highschool came and on a platter,
was a fresh start.
And for a second I'd thought old me and new me had grown apart.
I made friends like it was an art.
The warm feeling of care
began to fill my heart.
That's when the dead persona came back,
like a poison dart.
And everything I had built, fell apart.

i don't know why i liked you before.
you were arrogant, unlikeable.
though my feelings were short,
i still fully regret them.

you thought you were "all that"
smart, maybe even a nerd
but you were faking it.
you aren't anything.

nothing but an empty face
full of pretend
now when you speak
i look away.

you're yappy
as a drooling
sack of dogs
and as happy
as a vietnam
bombing.
you're ******
as downtown
new orleans
pretentious
as banksy
unlikeable
as amy schumer
worn and round
as a linkin
park CD
and yet
you're lovely as
a dumb *****
could be.

when i was younger,
afternoons meant screaming matches;
sorry, i mean screaming
lectures, maybe
or sessions
never matches-
we were never allowed to reply
or she'd scream louder and
louder.

i grew up ashamed.
ashamed of my body
ashamed of my personality
ashamed of my quirks and ticks
ashamed of what made me, me
i hated them.
i wanted to strip them away,
peel off my skin,
bleach my face,
burn my hands,
remove anything
that made me her target.
to this day, i still
hold out hope
that i may one day
stop hating myself.

crying was a weakness
unworthy of comfort
i have no memory
of being comforted
or held
just
alone
my pillow and my stuffed animals
for company
oh, how i longed to be held
just once
just for a moment,
someone to hold me up
when i couldn't breathe.

she used to tell us
the reason she screamed so loudly
was because she had tried, in the past
to speak softly.
apparently, we never listened.

i don't remember her
ever speaking evenly
i don't remember a day
without screams
(oh the screams)
filling the house, my mind
and even if she had tried so hard
to be quiet with us, and failed,
aren't mothers supposed to be patient,
even if the children do not listen?

i hated the way she would scream, yes
but more than that i hated
the way she would tower over me
face inches from mine,
eyes alight with what i could only
describe as
pure hatred
the image still haunts me
i'm still scared of her eyes, sometimes.

she gets so mad, sometimes.
i'm convinced she is not aware,
she does not remember
the things she says
when she is taking out her anger
on me.
a blind rage.
isn't that all i am?
an outlet for her anger?
the antagonist to her lead character?
the useless child she has to drive to school
for two more years?
will i ever be anything but
the result of years of anger?
the target of her mockery?
the recipient of her insults?
will i ever be more than
ugly
*****
disgusting
manipulative
evil
fat
stupid
dumb
unca­ring
unloving
ungrateful
a monster
a brat
a demon
a pig
an animal
boring
antisocial
timid
unlikeable
unwanted?

i have only ever known her to be sharp
harsh
disgusted with anything i do
that's why it hurts
when she gives me brief hugs,
smiles,
tells me she only screams
because she loves me
because i know
her intentions are pure
if her actions
are knives slotted between
my ribs.

why am i so unlikeable
why is everything i do a mistake
why do i feel so alone
why can't i be happy
why am i feeling sorry for myself
why can't i
why am i
why didn't i
why don't i
why won't i
why
why
why.

why do i continue to live this life.

- a.g.

Not the first thing to come to mind
Hidden in the back of your head,
A fragment of once passed,
I am almost forgotten.

Not that I ever knew much about
The touch of your breath or how it felt.
Stripped from presence, I only knew,
From a far what I felt and saw.

Day after day, every next day's the same.
You with your own, and me on my way.
Rarely, and not lately, our paths intersect.
And you, don't have a clue, that you live in my head.

Just so you know -
I don't mean to persuade, ******, flatter,
Or somehow try to appear to you and start to matter.
My image for you is of something greater.
It's just an unfeedable hunger,
An irresistible need, a longing,
And nothing other.

It's just that the thought of you
Brings a calm feeling and creates
An undisturbed peace and happiness in my mind,
Where I find solace, balance, help and a lending hand.

And on those rare moments where I glimpse in your life
I spend my day in joy,
Because I get to taste yours,
A second life, other than mine,

Sometimes, I am even jealous for what you have and are.
It's really nothing much, don't mind it all, at all.
You're just the highly unlikeable wish to happen to me.
That pumps in me together with the rhythm of my heart.

Yea? you wanna know what i feel?

I feel so unlikeable that i turn out ashamed of being me
ashamed of who i am and what im made of
it feels like i was never the girl you really liked in the first place
i never was once the girl of your interest.
I play makeups and clothes, not guitar and drumsticks
I love mellow music, not hard rock screamoes which u do like.

Were totally different in such million ways yet how did we found a love between a torn crack full of black and whites

On my last day of solo travel
I made the split decision to take stairs down
A random, haphazard side street.
I sat down at a cocktail bar
All by myself.
The only patron in this basement.

I was greeted with a smile
Missing one tooth
In the dark room
Asked what liquors I preferred
There is no menu
I listed off what I had tried and what I wanted to
She would sip a bit of the drink
Pipette on my outstretched hand
So I could give my input
As we constructed the flavors together
Laughing, eagerly offering and accepting my
suggestions of what the drink needed
Childlike wonder, curiosity, and play.

We experimented with absinthe
And amaretto, cherry, lavender, banana, sake, gin
pickled *****, coconut *** and umami bitters
She made me my first tiramisu martini.
A total of 5 cocktails in 5 hours spent together.

Lightly
I asked her why she moved to Prague -
Darkly
She said the single word “war”
She had to leave Kyiv or risk dying there.
She said she is so broke that she buys cheaper shoes that don’t fit and pads them with paper towels but still gets blisters.
She lives in a one bedroom with her mother.
Men started groping her on the train as early as nine.
She sincerely wishes her uncle would die.
She has made no friends in this city since she moved a year ago.
She has gotten fired before for being unlikeable and standing up for herself.
She painted the cocktail bar walls sage green after hours for free because the manager could not afford hiring a painter and she genuinely likes this job.
She is a polyglot: knows French, German, Ukrainian, Russian and English.
She’s vegan but she tries the fish-based bitters and egg whites for work every night and likes their taste.
She has not been to a doctor in years because she cannot afford it.
She has overdue medical bills racking up interest she worries about.
She got fined once for having an expired train ticket - now she always checks the expiration when she rides and has a valid ticket.
She points out, in her embroidered dress and matching embroidered jacket, that there’s cigarette holes from the ash the wind blew that she doesn’t have time to mend.
She has a college degree and a virtual master’s degree.
She thinks she’s old at 31.
She doesn’t trust men anymore.
She thinks that she’ll never get married or have children, even though she really wanted to when she was a little girl.
She was eager to smoke a cigarette outside when I needed to use the restroom.
She never let my water glass get empty.
She doesn’t know how she’ll make ends meet next month.
She asserts that life is unfair but that these are the cards she’s been dealt and they’ve made her stronger.

She thanked me as I left and told me that the conversation we had made her evening better
It was the most freeing feeling she had felt in months.
Being able to share and lighten the load of what she has been carrying alone made her emotional.
She says typically tourists and locals won’t ask or listen.
She feels othered by both.

We agree with tears in our eyes that we don’t even know each other’s names:
Margarita
Maria
We laugh, our names are so similar.

Maybe I am unlikeable,
Even though nobody says anything to me;
They just glance,
And turn away.

since i was a little girl,
i've been a very good actress
earlier in life, i was a golden girl
way ahead than my peers, a shining over-achiever
good in being too much, too much unlikeable

in my teenage years,
i played the role of misery
with grey clouds hanging over my head
custom-made puddles beneath my feet
and hand-drawn cross-stitches on my left wrist

through the end of adolescence,
i starred in a star-crossed romance
in which i was a frustrating lover
the "always leaving others" lover
the "you will only understand my action when we're in our 40s" lover

now that i am a 2 years old adult,
i am acting like a lost child in a big playground
mind spiraling down the slide
shaky judgements on the see-saw
the fool climbing the monkey-bar

man, i am such a star...

And when the demons,
From your unlikeable past;

Drink sodas and lemons,
With your present cast;

Know ye that time calls upon thee,
To make peace your cup of tea.

And when the demons,
From your unlikeable past;

Drink sodas and lemons,
With your present cast;

Know ye that time calls upon thee,
To make peace your cup of tea.

She is only twenty-three, seven years younger than her brother. She is riding that motorbike late at night, aginst all fears. All she wants is to take her brother and mother to the most favorite place at night in Kandy. It was drizzling a little too by then.

She mixed up with the directions a little. They ended up heading to a place where a highly unlikeable bunch of people hanging out and accommodate.  They were drinking. It wasn't a pleasant party. Some people are born so nasty, He thought to himself and reminded of the world's Victorian days. All praise the Queens, Science is new Victoria.

Life felt like a prolonged mystery.

Yesterday, I was not a nice person
An entire episode of that

Apologies being crafted
Strategies hopefully drafted

A. Bourdain?
It was a trigger

Why I love travel
My best times with you

Showed us everywhere
Bonds we all share

Crass, adorable, unlikeable
(Self reflection there)

I didn’t suffer loss well
A man behaving badly

I was awful to my travel companion
No excuses; apology?

unlikeable
write it on my
                            F      A      C       E

the air is heavy
incapable of breathing it
it clings to my mouth
******* in the
                    weights

i’ve never hated being alone more
but i know i am not just alone
i am lonely
when the sky falls
turns purple and pink
i am left in an empty battlefield
full of unloaded guns

oh, what have i come to?
but what am i kidding
i have always been unlikeable
i should have known

don’t waste your time trying to impress someone with higher status or nicer clothes or a prettier face.
they won’t acknowledge you anyway.

stop wasting your time, hung up on love that you crave.
being in high school and never having a boyfriend is totally ok.
you aren’t unlikeable just because you’re single, i can promise you that.
  
crush culture will make you wanna spill your guts out.

don’t make people your villains just because you envy them and their skeletal structure.

i know it feels as if you’re bathing in a hot spring filled with inexorable anxiety
and i know you wanna escape more than anything else in the entire universe.
this is just a moment.
you have the entire rest of a lifetime for yourself.
just stay strong.

don’t worry about what others think about you.
the only approval you should be seeking is your own; everyone else’s is irrelevant.
who cares if they judge you for such a trivial matter?
they don’t know the real you and if they did, they wouldn’t even look at you funny ever again.

i know you think that you’re not worth it for some reason
but you are worth every laugh shared and every contagious smile,
you are worth the space you occupy in other peoples’ minds.
you might not be brightest star, but you can keep shining.
you don’t have to be a prodigy at everything.
you’re good at things,
you’re talented,
you’re able.

you don’t need to be spotted in crowds.
if you want to remain invisible to the naked eye, go right ahead.
i promise no one is stopping you from keeping your distance.

you don’t have to be loud and crave to be seen to matter in this world.

times can feel like asteroids hitting your planet (and a war threatening it)
summer goes and winter comes and flowers bloom and then go dull.
people are just like seasons;
you don’t need to be happy all the time.

but who knows?
you’ll grow into a fine young lady/man
and no one will know what struggles taunted you when you were in eleventh grade.
besides,
no one thought that neptune had rings when they were there all along;
they were just invisible.


—see, even invisible things can be seen if you capture them with the right camera

the old school i went to was filled with the best, worst, and funniest memories. i only talk to four of my friends from that old school; i don’t really ever talk to two of them, but i have texted them. it doesn’t really matter. there’s so many people that have come and gone that i’m not even phased anymore.

1. dear s, you. oh, you. you were a strange soul, but i always remember respecting you. my other classmates said you were really weird. you peeped over stalls and you loved this one kid, (i’ll get to him later) you got so sad when you had to leave in kindergarten. i missed you back then, i don’t miss you now. i barely remember you anyway.

2. dear t, so.. you were technically my first kiss. i chased you around on the tar playground thingy and i kissed your cheek right before the teachers rang their end of recess bell. you were my first love, i like to claim jokingly. i played some foolish kindergartner game with you and when you left in first grade, i had no more reason to play. so i didn’t. we had play dates at your house. your cat bit me, your sister was running up and down the stairs, you showed me your bunk beds, and you hid me under a blanket fort so that i didn’t have to go back home with my father. you gave up peanut butter for lent because of me in kindergarten. that’s honestly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. you now go to high school with me and i don’t think you recall. that’s insane to me.

3. dear s, i just remember you being best friends with the kid i mentioned above. you were quite shy and never talked much. i never really got to know you. the only thing i recall about you is that you had to put things in your shoes and you broke my best friend’s front tooth.

4. dear a, you and i played with toys together and we got along quite well. i was upset when you had to go. you were pulled out of class to be placed into a better school? i was bummed. i think i still see your face pop up into my mind occasionally.

5. dear j, you were the best at dodgeball and i always thought you were kinda odd, but i am too so… i don’t know. i went to your halloween party one year and you didn’t even speak to me. luckily i never wanted you to. i was a dog that year. when you left, it was just another person leaving. i hope you’re good now.

6. dear a, you came in third grade. everyone disliked you. it could’ve been the way you always read books while the teacher was teaching or the way you bit the collar of your shirt and your lips would get so red and chapped. when you left, everyone rejoiced. (no offense.) i was never really friends with you anyway.

7. dear p, i don’t really remember you much. your brother and your sister..possibly? if you had one…were really weird. no offense, i promise i’m not judgmental. we never talked much, that’s literally all i remember about you lol. hope you’re good.

8. dear p, you were a very interesting person. you sang let it go one time and said Hell instead of Heaven in the lyrics and everyone at my table was shocked. (that was in third grade.) you called yourself some weird name and everyone looked at you strangely when you did. you pinned one of my classmates against the wall and tried to kiss him. that was very creepy. you got sent to boarding school and i haven’t heard anything about you since. i hope you settled down after those years.

9. dear e, you always tried to steal my dessert that was in my lunch. (i’m pretty sure it was you who did that.) i cried to my parents about that. thankfully you stopped. one time, we played jenga and we couldn’t stop laughing so we had to go to the bathroom. i was peeing my pants i was laughing so hard. that is honestly one of my favorite memories. you got mad at me for how i read and you were a horse girl, but other than that, you were a good friend. you go to my new school now and you definitely don’t remember me. you’ve still got that red hair and those freckles. you look the same. i miss you a little.

10. dear s, you were my best friend. i got to show you around the school as a resident, (idk lol.) i complimented your lunchbox on that day. later on, i would stay a little after class so you could gather your hefty science book in your arms and we would walk up the staircase together. my cousin and my sister always claim i had a crush on you, but i never did. i was very upset when you left the school. you now walk around the halls of my new school with your head lowered to the ground. i wish i could make you happy like i used to. i honestly miss you. i really do.

11. dear b, i thought you were funny, but you were always disrespectful to the teachers. you once did this insensitive imitation at lunch. i didn’t want to sit next to you cause you would spit your food everywhere. you were the worst kid i think i ever knew. i once said to you “die in a hole cause you really are dirt.” maybe that’s why you claimed people at that school bullied you. but you were popular and everyone loved you, right? you could be pretty mean yourself. you go to my new school now as well, i don’t know if you recognize me, but i definitely recognize you. you’re a lot more tame now, i think.

12. dear a, i went to your birthday party and everyone was shocked since i never went to any party i was invited to. it was a lot of fun, you considered me as a friend then. but when i said hello to you a year after you left that school, you didn’t say anything back. i was humiliated. i missed the version of you back when i had to move my seat cause another kid and i were getting too rowdy. we sat beside each other and we became best buddies. perhaps only on my end. you came from minnesota and you talked about how cold it got and what scary tornadoes looked like there. you liked my stupid best friend, but you never even liked me, i’m guessing. everyone at my new school hates you. i don’t think you go there anymore. i never really liked you anyway.

13. dear z, you were fun. you were always quite fond of me. you saw me on the playground of the other middle school and wanted to say hi. i was afraid and didn’t think you really wanted to. but i said hi anyway. i told you that your mom looked like mine one time and i think you laughed or something. you go to my new school and you stare at me like you remember me, perhaps you do. i miss you.

14. dear e, the art teacher used to say that she wanted your hair type. she tried it one day, it looked awful, and i don’t even know why. it was kind of weird how obsessed she was with that. on the first day you came to school, you read two paragraphs too much about smoky the bear. how do i even remember that? we were the rowdy bunch in second grade. we laughed at everything. in fourth grade, you did something really creepy that i don’t even wanna say. i won’t out you like that. you were rich and pretentious, bringing fiji water bottles to school every day, but i miss you. i don’t know where you are now.

15. dear s, i had the fattest crush on you in fourth and fifth grade. everyone in my class liked you, it was kind of funny. my best friend even liked you. it was crazy, i tried denying it, but everyone knew anyway. (you actually liked my best friend though, you said some weird things about her.) i almost killed you one time. i gave you a peppermint because you asked for it and you started choking on it and had to run to the bathroom. our teacher was so worried for you, and i hid my head in shame. you were fine though; you didn’t snitch on me. you told me i was strong and you picked me to do a project with. i was so shocked and happy that you wanted me to be in your group. my sister said we were best friends, but i never thought we were. i really thought i was that unlikeable. i miss you? that’s a question.

16. dear b, in seventh grade you would only stand beside me during sparkle or whatever game we played. (if you never played sparkle, you haven’t lived.) my friends would call you out on it, especially a, but you would just smile and say nothing. one of the only male teachers was obsessed with you, probably cause he didn’t want you to feel left out. you almost cried every time you couldn’t solve an english sentence or when you got a c on a test. you were a wreck. i don’t even know what school you go to now, but i guess i wish you the best.

17. dear a, scratch what i said about the other kid being the most troublesome person i ever came across. you brought the board game chameleon to school and i had a blast playing it. sometimes you would cheat or stop halfway through the round and it wouldn’t be as fun. i defended you once to a teacher. you called her assignment dumb and she said, “are you calling me dumb?” and i was like, “no, he’s just calling the work dumb.” and you were like, “yeah.” you rarely came to school and i was shocked when you would actually turn up. a rumor flew around that you got expelled and God only knows where you are right now. prison? lol, probably not.

18. dear m, we sat on the same bus together and we laughed in the back every day. we both “hated” each other. we had debates on who could stand out in the freezing cold longest. it was me, always me. you once left in third grade after an ice cream party, but then came back. you left in sixth for good. you still live in my neighborhood, but i never see you. i miss you.

19. dear c, you were the most fun person i ever met. you told jokes and they rolled off your tongue so easily, you made me laugh on my most difficult days. you touched my neck one time as a joke and we talked about it from then on. you would always mention it. you called me so many funny nicknames and i know for a fact you started liking me. you loitered around my locker and tried any chance you got to talk to me. it was very flattering. i miss your laugh, your weirdness, your enthusiasm. i miss you more than most of the others for the attention and the kindness you showed to me. you didn’t show up to our graduation cause of covid and march thirteenth is the last day i ever saw your face. i wish with all my heart that that wasn’t true.

20. dear k, you were knowledgeable about everything and i always thought you were a know-it-all. you were never particularly nice to me, but again, i didn’t really notice. you snitched on people so much. you liked my best friend too and you wrote her a note and asked her if she liked you back. you both go to the same school and you talk to her a lot. that’s upsetting. i think you remember me and it’s awkward. sorry.

21. dear k, you were my best friend. we were partners in crime, but i’m not gonna write you a huge letter since i have written about you so many times and the wound just gets deeper every time. we sat together in every class. one time, we had a substitute teacher and we both changed seats so we could sit together. we got snitched on the next day. ugh. i miss you extremely. you wander the halls of my new school and you’re just everywhere and i can’t shake you. you hate me, i just know it.

22. dear c, you got ridiculed for your weight and i might have participated once. my friends joked about you needing to use head and shoulders because you had dandruff. i’m sorry. my one friend would act like i had a crush on you and he would make you sit next to me to see if my face turned red. i hated it, but i could tell that you didn’t mind. i have little clue where you are now. i don’t really miss you.

23. dear k, i’ve seen you a couple times since going to my new school. you’re still best friends with one of my good friends that stuck. we went to an escape room together and we laughed like old times. you’re shy like me and you make me feel comfortable. i hope to see you again soon.

24. dear c, you and i would fool around before class every day at seven thirty. it would get annoying sometimes, but i never acted bothered. i don’t like to make people feel like burdens. we would do morning announcements and i like to think that we were really good friends. i’d like to think that you thought that too. there was something about you that was just so welcoming. i miss you and i wish we could’ve kept in contact so we could’ve hung out more. my friend saw you at the ice cream shop the other day and it would’ve been cool if i had been there too.

25. dear a, you sent me a message and you don’t know how much that meant to me. i even wrote a **** poem about that, (don’t think i’m crazy though hehe.) you asked me about school and i took a whole ten minutes to answer because i didn’t know. should i have lied or told you the truth or what? so i just said it was good, just different. and then you showed me pictures of your new cat and her scratches on the drywall. she was a cute kitten. you wanted me to go to basketball games at other schools and i always came up with an excuse on why i didn’t go. dang it, i regret not going now. after my best friend left school, you and i became closer and we sat up in the math room together figuring out confusing problems. i miss spending time with you and i miss seeing your wet hair in the morning. i hope we can reunite and meet up soon.

26. dear s, you couldn’t go to the restaurant you wanted to for your birthday because you misbehaved. i told you about that incident a few months ago and you claimed it never happened. it did. my friends all used to pick on you since you were such an easy target. you don’t get social cues so i rarely ever try to joke with you. you said my voice was pretty when i was singing and i have always hated my voice so thank you for boosting my nonexistent confidence. you left in kindergarten, but came back in third grade and you were gonna go to a different high school, but you’re stuck where i am. we text now and we have lunch and class together. it’s fun hanging out with you sometimes.

27. dear f, i write poems about you all the time and it’s kind of embarrassing. at least you’ll never read them. in fourth grade, my old crush said you had a crush on me and i brushed it off. i know you still did all the way to eighth grade. you gave me so many nicknames and all of them made me laugh. you placed things on top shelves and put your arms against walls to show how much taller you were than me. i liked it secretly. we had spelling and academic contests together. you won some, i won spelling. i miss you more than everyone else i think, even though you made me feel like disgusting trash everyday. you’re the reason i still call myself ugly in the mirror. thanks. i still miss you, do you miss me?

28. dear j, you’ve helped me so much through high school and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to thank you enough. you introduced me to so many people and they have been excellent friends to me. we were never super good friends back then, but now we are. we text and we laugh and we have inside jokes and it’s all i could’ve ever wished for. you used to be a snitch, but you aren’t anymore. we have three classes together this year and i can’t wait to see you again on the first day of school. see you there.

and these are all the people who have shaped me into who i am,
wherever all of you are at this moment, thank you for spending most of my life with me.
thank you.