Hedwig and Lost in Translation, all signs point.

NOTE: This is the last letter I’ve written to Jenn. Half of it, the well written part, anyway. I thought I’d put in on here. You can read. But somethings you Won’t Understand. Sorry.

The cops were nuts tonight. (Literally, falling out of trees, etc, it was loco.)

Probably need to up their intake of tickets, but the last Two nights people have flashed their lights at me to warn me, and tonight it was a guy who was In The Process of being pulled over, just helping others out.

Christmas spirit.

And I’m thinking where does Mike get off doing that shit, telling me “well you’ve been alone her all day”, fuck you man. I wanna shoot you.

It’s funny, as you want to be (before Mikey-Mike got there)—wait. I said, in my mind. “It’s funny, as you went to bed” but it came out like you see.

I like things like that.

So anyway, before Mike got there and you were drifting asleep I tapped your head to wake up you up and you said “What?” So I stopped, but I was gonna tell you I wanna hang out just as much.

But it wasn’t to be I guess, you saying what like that, and then Mike showing up (he had a suspicious look on his face…thought somethin’ was goin’ down…I don’t Like Mike Right. Now.)

(What(so)ever.)

On the way home, I thought: “Where does he get off, talking to me like that?” And then I remembered: “Yes, he Is her boyfriend.” The first time I didn’t fuck up and say he’s your girlfriend, I guess ‘cause I said it differently.

So, this will definitely limit us.

When you said, at Wendy’s, that it seemed like something was blocking your view of so much more, I took that as symbolism that Mike was blocking us.

From So Much More.

I came home, there is something blocking it exactly where you cut it off.

I’m cleaning my room tonight probably, but I won’t move that.

I had a feeling that Mike wanted to come to my house to see all the papers (mis-drafts of your letters) but then realized he doesn’t know about them.

He thinks I’m trying to steal you and he’s the man and it won’t happen on his watch.

(But he uses his cell phone too.) (To tell time.)

I’m not trying to steal your girlfriend Mike, all I’ve fucking done (or tried to do) is help you out and you’ll never know.

He was pissed that I was still there, I could tell (a lot).

Morning’s are ours.

Morning’s our are’s.

Morning’s’R’hours.

Watching Mike cuddle with you on the couch he seems so much bigger than he did over summer. Like, he’s got a huge self-esteem (ego?) now. It’s nice, if it didn’t piss me off so much.

It’s like he’s the football player, you’re the cheerleader who is questioning her existence, and I’m the nerd you turn to for help.

And that’s all I’ll ever get to do. That’s what it feels like. Because Pretty In Pink teaches us (even though I’ve never seen it) that they always return to where they came from, with more wisdom, and the nerd just Learns to Accept things.

That’s really all his life has been, one big life lesson and no others.

(So I’m not totally a nerd, but he even Played football at one point, C’mon.)

He thinks I’m sad. Pitiful. But he’s my friend, right? I just wanted to have a girl in my life, but that girl just happened to be his perfect girl, and I must Accept That.

Sorry, anger.

Life lesson: Stop wishing for things that can’t happen (yet) and go with what you know:

(Did I make the Dean’s list this year?)