My pathetic letter to Sarah.

I’m sorry I’m such a fucking ass, self-centered little prick, who sits in a corner. I’m tired, my contacts make my head ache, and I’m Jealous. Okay. Okay. I just wanna rebel, and give a stone wall, and cut everything off and not respond to you. I know I’m fucking stupid, I know I really haven’t changed at all in this respect, and FUCK I want to, but I’m this way, I guess?. I wish, I wonder: do I get jealous because I can’t have you, because you flirt with him and he’s a nice guy and deserves you more than me, and you watch him change shirts, and you’re flirty, like with anyone, and I wonder why I do this to myself, why can’t I just be me, why can’t I not care about these sort of things and realize how very small they are in scheme of things.

But I’m Angry. I’m tired, and I want to see you by myself, and I think I’m boring. And self-loathing, and self-centered, and this whole thing is stupid, I know that. I wanted to hang out alone, I want your attention, your love (I know) and I’m a fucking high schooler.

Start over.

You’re the most gorgeous girl, cute, sexy, flirty, and I don’t know my feelings, and I get envious, and you know all this, why am I explaining. I’m sorry already for this letter, I’m sorry for being an ass, I’m sorry that I’m so fucking delicate around you.

I’m not a man around you, I’m a fucking woman, and I don’t miss writing these letters.

I just wanted to hang out. And I’m sorry. And I don’t even know what I’d do if I got you, and I don’t fucking like this, I’M A FUCKING KID.

It’s late, let’s blame it on that.

I like that Killers song. I feel underneath all college people. (Except those friends of <3 Lizzy <3 that walked in, they make me not like girls.)

Do I even like you, like that? Who was it, someone left me a note the other day that said “I read somewhere once that people don’t stop loving one another. They just learn to live without that person in their lives. It’s about taking it one day at a time, and knowing that you’re not alone. Take care,” that whole thing. I like your voice, your tone, your moves, your bag of ties, your clock, you. I feel separate from you. I hold your hand for a moment and can’t hold on because I’m scared of if you don’t want me to, I want to put my arm around you and feel weird about it because it’s me.

I don’t like “moves”, and trying them on girls, and I can’t. I try to imagine kissing you sometimes, (very nice shirt today) and it’s like I can’t, like the picture just won’t focus. Do I have feelings for you?, yes. What are they based on?, no idea.

I’m going on and on.

Why are you so special to me? Why can’t you just mean nothing so I can move on.

This doesn’t happen everyday. Just my jealousy tonight.

In the bible, doesn’t it say jealousy is the opposite of love? I’m very sorry. Maybe it’s just a warped version of love.

I’m going to stop being jealous now. I just want your attention.

I’m not a loser, I just act like one.

You’re a very good friend, Sarah Moore. I’m sorry that I sometimes get confused. I’ve tried to stop for so long.

Love, your elementary school friend,

Jon Strong.