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Dear Meat
12394 Charles St.
La Plata MD, 20646


Dear wife,

  I know your seeing someone else
i know what you two are doing in my bed when im not home
i don’t know why you get mad at me when i talk to ANY other woman
and i don’t know why i stay in this hell
it’s over

a broken heart

Dear Lost Boy,

You’re driving 800 miles away to visit a girl you barely know. You’re taking 500 dollars with you, and have no idea what you’re doing. You wanted my help in keeping this trip a secret from your family. You’re running away from your problems and the sad reality that is your life. You’re staying in a hotel room with her all week, but you promise nothing will happen.

I wonder if you’re listening to the mixed CDs I made for you while driving. I wonder if you’re okay. I wonder if you’re lonely. I wonder if you miss me. I wonder if you’re scared. I wonder if you think about me. I wonder if you feel lost. I wonder if you’re lying to me, because I really believe things will happen with her. I wonder why my love less than 5 miles away wasn’t enough. I wonder why going to church with me every Sunday and listening to country music on the way home wasn’t enough. I wonder why my love, with no costs or fees, was not enough. I wonder if you miss walking through the woods with me. I wonder if you miss pointing out all the strangely beautiful things in life with me. I wonder if you miss holding hands in the movie theater. I wonder if you miss watching old movies with me that make us feel like little kids again. I wonder if the scrapbook I made for you is in your car you’re taking on your trip to see this girl. I wonder if you realize it’s even there if it is. I wonder if you still look at things and think about how you’d want to show them to me because I’d love it (I still do it for you.) I wonder why you changed. I wonder what happened to you.

I know you’re not mine anymore, and honestly, I don’t want you to be. Not the person you are now anyway. I wish I had the old you, the one I fell in love with. Instead, I’m left with nothing. Wondering why all my love was never good enough. You got angry at me when I said “Nothing gold can stay,” and all you did was prove me right. I’m left with memories of you, but a different you. And I’m worried because you’re so far away and you’re alone with a psycho girl you met on the internet. Even though you make me angry and you broke my heart and I don’t want to be with you, I still love you. And I hope you’re okay.

Just come home soon, so I know you’re sleeping in your bed less than 5 miles away from mine, even though you won’t be dreaming of me.


Dear Readers,

If you have the opportunity today, please send a vote to Dear Meat for the creative writing section!  It’d mean a lot to us, and it’s a great help in general!  Here’s a link that should be of help:

Thanks much,


Dear Could-Have-Been


            I’m at my breaking point with you, and you seem just fine. You can go fuck yourself. You can go submerge yourself in your self-righteous, indignant, ignorant pleasure.

            It probably serves me right. I mean, I missed my chance, watched it fly right by. It wasn’t like you had agreed to wait. You wouldn’t have done it even if I had asked it of you.

            In any case, you look good. It should go without saying (but here I am saying it anyway) that I want you. And seeing you with that girl, well I’m sure you’re fucking her. I promise my loving is better, though. But we’re both just a couple of bitches to you anyway.

            Alright, here’s a confession; straight up truth (and this is awfully corny and sappy sweet and I hate saying it as much as I hate that I ever cried in front of you): I think about you way too much and I miss you way too much. I miss what we almost had, what we could have had. And I just want to sleep alongside of you again. I like the way I fit next to you, curled up, protected in your arms, and how I had to reach on my tip-toes for your kisses.

            Writing this just makes me miss you more. It’s pointless.

            Well, I’m sorry that I’m too late. I would have liked to make you happy. But I guess since you’re suck a fuck and since nothing I do now can make any difference, you can go and have a nice life. Fuck you.

            I want(ed) to love you.

— Your used-to-be

Dear Mom,

Please stop watching sad movies. You know they are sad, you know who dies, and yet you still insist upon loudly begging the TV “NO DON’T DO THAT.”
It’s annoying to everyone around you.

Doesn’t Like Sad Movies, But Doesn’t Watch Them,

Dear Boy,

I’ve known you for two years now and one out of the two I’ve spent liking you…a lot. I don’t really know how it happened, but it did. I guess I just want to tell you that you always make me smile.

Thank you,


Dear Nora Lee….

I’m sorry I got mad at you too easily. I should’ve never done what I did, but then again, you did something worse. You broke my heart. We were like sisters, inseparable..but I guess thats all over. 
You once told me we were best friends and you never wanted to lose me again,
why didn’t you forgive me? Just 2 months ago I broke down crying because of that text. 
Today, I feel like I’m the better person and I don’t need you.
But I still miss you sometimes. You were always the one that understood me. You would take me in your arms and let me cry on your shoulder. I know you aren’t worth my time. So I’m just going to end it with this letter.

Your Old Best Friend,


Dear Devon,

I miss you. Everything seems blank with out your hyperness and understanding. I remember we used to think your house was haunted, and got in the smallest fights. I remember in kinder garden I kissed you goodbye and you told on me. I remember when you tried to kiss T. I remember when you were obsessed with B. I remember when we went camping. I remember sleeping in a tent-thing at your house. I remember you leaving for China, not calling me except for once. I remember when you sent me a card a year later saying you moved to Virginia. I remember when you didn’t send me a birthday present when I did. And now you’re long gone. I can’t find you. But I want you.

Your Sad Bff,

S Dinosaur

Dear Stephanie Meyers,

    I just want to say thank you for holding the spot as the worst fictional writer ever to grace this planet. Also, thank you for consuming my baby sisters life with your ridiculously excuse for writing. Even Stephen King says your writing is crap…

“Both Rowling and Meyer, they’re speaking directly to young people… The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can’t write worth a darn. She’s not very good.” -Stephen King

Why don’t you do the world a favor and crawl into a tiny hole and never come back out. You will not only help out the youths of our countries by never having to be tainted by this crap, but also save yourself even more embarrassment.

                                                     A Disgusted Reader


Dear Criminal Justice Teacher,

You are a dumb bitch.

     Someone who went the extra effort to make a title page

Dear “Tea Party Patriots”

You backwards, ignorant, racist, whining hicks are the reason why I
cannot take pride in my nation; you make me embarrassed to be an
American. You shame the very flag that you hold aloft. Under the guise
of a cause, you take to the streets chanting curses at those who provide
you with the very freedom you take for granted. You do not deserve the
ground you walk on.

-A once proud citizen.

Dear Paper Due Next Wednesday,

I’m head over heels for you and your subject matter. We’re going to have a fun time!

It’s just that… doing you might prove to be a problem.

I don’t know! Maybe you’re just too big for my tastes…

We’ll try it again tomorrow and see how much I can swallow.