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Dear Meat
12394 Charles St.
La Plata MD, 20646


Dear you,

First off, I would like to say that it really blows being a kid with three different families. Oh sure, Christmas is always fun, but then there is the constant battle as to where I will be this Thanksgiving, or this Christmas. All sides want a piece, but I can only be one place at one time. You don’t make it any easier. I have lived with you since the age of three. I love you. I love your wife, my mom. I love our family. I get to spend everyday with you. Sure we have our disagreements, but in the end, we are always okay. 

Well now that I have told you that I love you, here comes the hard part. Telling you what I feel, and I can’t ever seem to say. You break my heart. All the time. I see our family daily, I see my mom’s side, maybe once a year, sometimes once every two years. I hate that. They are my family too whether you like that or not. How do you break my heart you may ask. Well, for example if I choose to go and see them on a holiday or someones birthday, I am thinking of myself, and I am choosing them over whoever I will be missing. I am not choosing anyone over anyone else. As you like to point out, I see them once every year or so. When I have the chance to see them, I am going to. It seems like ever since Momma died, I have had to twist your leg to let me go see my family. Just because she is gone doesn’t mean my connection to that family is as well. I am sorry if I sound like a complaining child, but I need to get this off my chest. 

Also, while I am at it, another way you break my heart is how you compare me to my mother. Everyone makes mistakes, you should know, right? I make a mistake, I am going to be just like her. No, I am not. I know the things she did, and I know I wont be getting any close to those things because I have seen what they do to a person. I don’t want to be that person. How many times do I have to tell you this before you actually believe me? It hurts me. You know that, sometimes I think that is the only reason you use it against me. I can be apathetic towards your yelling, and your banter, but when you bring that up, it kills me. Rips my heart into two. 

I love you I do, but I need you to know that I am 18. I have three families. Eventually it will be more when and if I marry. I wont always be home for Christmas, Thanksgiving, Fathers day, Mothers day, ect. I can’t be everywhere at once. Just like when I was little. Oh and so you know. You have actually taught me a valuable lessen. I wont have kids before I marry, I wont force them to go through the hurt, and if I were to ever God forbid, divorce, I would wait til they were grown, so not to hurt them. I love you.

Your hurting daughter, 



i can’t even comprehend how i feel about you. Just seeing you makes my stomache flutter. Everything about you is just amazing in my eyes. I really wish i knew how you feel about me, and only seeing you on wednesday’s doesn’t help.. Whenever i’m with you no one else really matter’s and i wish you knew that, and i wish you’re parent’s trusted you more, and i wish you’re dad wasn’t a pastor, and god. I wish so many things.. and im so terrified of rejection it would kill me if i told you how i felt, and then you just didnt reply, or you just said “oh”. So anyway’s I hope that one day, you will read this and know who is saying it, or i get the balls to tell you how i feel. I think i love you.


Dear Tony,

     I just want to thank you for all those amazing moments in craft class. You make me excited to go to that class, I love how you are always there to tell me my art looks great, and that I’m doing a great job. I love it when you ask me to give you some ideas because you “just aren’t as great at being amazingly artistic”. I love it when we stand side by side, looking through the pieces of glass for our mosaics and we help each other find the pieces we need.
     I really loved it when you told me how beautiful I look in green, and how I have the most amazing eyes. I love how we act like a damn married couple, and fight all the time but we always come to an agreement. I love how when Alexis or Sam tries to get you to side with them, you defiantly say “I’m on her team, sorry bitches”.
     I’m sorry I never tell you how I feel, how much I appreciate you. I want to tell you how much I love your deep, chocolate brown eyes and your amazingly white teeth. I love your hair, and your great nose. I love how instead of making a vase or a bowl during the clay unit, you made a most creative bong. I hate that you are a stoner, but it takes one to know one. I love how your art always looks like shit, but sometimes you make something that looks so amazing and great; they are called Happy Accidents.

Tony, you are my Happy Accident.

- That Girl In Craft (that will always be on your team-always!)

Dear Shoes,

It is with deep regret we had to part. For so long, you were the perfect fit; now it is at the point where I can’t even stand being around you. You hurt me on such a deep level that I need a stronger support from someone else and will be with me, every step of the way. I won’t forget the memories though: spending time around our hometown, backpacking Europe, and falling in love with you with every single moment together.  I hope you find someone who loves you just as much as I do.



Dear Marcus the Grand Marquis,

You are the best car in the world.  I know you break down and have your own problems.  You are 13 years old after all.  I didn’t expect to not have to have the occassional super expensive repair.

But every other automobile in the world cannot compare to the fact that you are my car.  You are my ticket to freedom.  You are my means of transportation.  You are my mobile purse.  You drove me to Nagshead.  You drove me to Pittsburgh.  You are my first car.

I do not want to get rid of you.  This June, I will have driven you for 3 years.  You probably won’t last another 2 or 3.

Please don’t get jealous when I think about a shiny, fast Marauder.  I don’t mean it that way.

Your driver,


Dear taken women

I would like to say that despite what you think, people do admire you for what you are. But the fact is, despite you or your personality, people are smart enough not to flirt with a woman in a relationship. You are what you are, but when you have to ask people to flirt with you so you can feel good about yourself, it’s not other people’s problems, it’s yours. If you need other guys to shower you with attention to make you feel wanted, then you are in the same category as women who wear low cut shorts and wear shirts to show so much cleavage it could be considered illegal. You are who you are, and guys may respect you for knowing what you want and being smart, but flirting or cat calling a girl in a relationship is just out of class.

You seem to also have a low opinion of guys, thinking of them only as desiring girls that are accepted as playboy models. The fact is, they might just not be attracted to you, and you have to deal with the fact that guys have too much class then to flirt with taken women. Not all guys like a girl for their looks. Lots of them are above the feminist’s point of view.

Men who have standards

Dear Ex-boyfriend,

Almost a year and I still cringe at the thought of you with her. Though I act like being with you is the last thing I want, the truth is I miss you every second of every day. You were my first and only love. I’m just waiting and waiting for you to come around even though I know deep inside it won’t happen. I know I have him, he’s no you. His touch doesn’t melt me like yours did.

Nothing is the same. I will always love you.

Once Your Everything.

Dear Nutella,

We have been together for as long as i can remember. When i was changing and growing up you always remained the same. That specific colour, that curved design, even your unique scent. Your simple and perfect self.
When I was down, you were there for me. When I was disappointed, you were there for me. When I was happy, you made me even more happy.
You were you, even if i wasn’t myself.
I hope we have a long life together ahead of us. But for now - thank you.


Dear Childhood Friend,

I miss you. I found some old postcards you sent me from your vacation when we were little. I can’t find you anywhere, even on Facebook. I’ve looked so many times.

I miss you a lot,
The Girl You Grew Up With

Dear Andrew,

Going into our relationship, we both knew the terms. Casual and with a to-be-determined expiry date. I let myself love you because I knew love is fleeting in most circumstances. You couldn’t let yourself be happy in the situation, though, and it tormented you. You seemed to struggle with the idea of being happy just for the moment. It’s odd, though, because I know you are unromantic and I suspect that you don’t believe in romantic love, so for you to show such emotion surprised me. I feel like it has something to do with your father, but I could be wrong. You do seem to harbour some unresolved anger towards him, though, but that’s kind of besides the point. 

You tried to break it off a few times. The first time because you thought I might want something serious, but I told you I didn’t really have anything specific in mind and just wanted to take what we had together where it might, and I wasn’t lying. I didn’t have any expectations for long term at all. The second time, you said it was because you thought it was just going to be a summer time romance. This was strange to me, since your feelings for me seemed to have grown. Needless to say, both of those times were unsuccessful and mostly due to your weird sense of a tangible expiration date.

The third time, I became pregnant. I had initially wanted to keep the baby, not especially caring if you stuck around or not. I had set myself up to accept that you would just run away. I didn’t care, at that point you were besides the situation. I knew you didn’t want a relationship, and hell if you would want a baby. Eventually I realized the gravity of my choice for myself and my family who would have to support me. When I told you I would have the abortion, you cried. You cried and you told me you wanted to try a real relationship with me. Even then, even though I felt partially happy you would say that, I knew you said it out of… panic? Guilt? Some reaction to some emotion. I knew it wasn’t genuine. I knew you didn’t mean it, and I was right. 

A few days after the procedure, you stayed the night at my apartment, and left in the morning. When I went to my bathroom, I saw the letter you left me. I knew what it said before I even read it:


i was already going thru sometning of a quarter life crisis when i met you, i’m deep in it now. i care about you, even more than i knew, but i need some time to process everything that just happened. a splendid summer fling into an autumn crisis, let’s take a break and see where we’re at. maybe there’s a winter ahead of us yet, but in the meantime, i think we each have a lot to think about.

Take care gummy bear,


You had typed it out on a type writer. I wonder now where you even got one, because I was planning on getting you one for Christmas since you expressed a desire for one. A friends? At the university? I’ll never know. At the time I was inconsolable. I had just had an abortion, and then you seemed to abandon me. Even though I knew our relationship was doomed, it wasn’t about that. You were the only person who knew what I was going through, you were the only one who went through it with me. And you left. How could you?

A week later, I finally talked to you and you said we should go to dinner. I told you that I wasn’t fine without you, and you seemed surprised. You said that I had been acting like I was perfectly fine, and admitted that a friend told you that I was moving on without you. I told you I needed you to be there for me because you were a huge part of what had happened. 

The next month seemed optimistic. On your birthday I cooked you a beautiful meal, and in the morning you insisted I stay longer, and that we watch The Fantastic Mr. Fox. Despite that, when you told me you wanted to go Christmas shopping a couple weeks later, I knew you were going to break up with me. Again, I was right. You never, ever suggested anything of the sort, and when I saw you, you looked as if you were a combination of Atlas and an insomniac. 

You broke up with me for the last time in a Starbucks, December 8th, 2009. I cried. You looked so sad. No one else seemed to notice.

We were both stupid, and both to blame. Me because I was aware of how I was being treated (which was poorly), and you for not letting yourself be happy. I think this relationship is the only thing in my short life that I truly regret. The only thing I can say I gained from this is that I now know to be much stronger in a relationship and not to let my selfish desire to love someone take over the fact that I am not being respected. I’m not sure that lesson was worth the emotional scars, but only time will tell. Cliched, but true.

I wish you could be happy, for your own sake.


Dear Blue,

Everybody tells me I shouldn’t love you. I can’t blame them at all, but I can’t blame myself for loving you either. I’m going to make you prove yourself to me, because that’s the only way I can ever begin to trust you again. I hope you do it, because I want you back so horribly…you have no idea. I can’t let you know, or anybody else. I just want us to love each other again. Even if things aren’t like they were before…I just want them to be better. I believe we can be good for each other, but only if you’re willing to make the effort. Please…don’t let me regret following my heart.



Dear Country Music,

You’ve known exactly how to pry my heart open this past month. It’s nice to know that somebody else understands.

-a growing fan