Todd walked into the library, intent on finding a new poetry book to peruse. He beelined to the poetry section, knowing it by heart at this point. Todd preferred the company of long dead authors and their words over anything he might encounter in the halls or classrooms of his school. His roommate, Neil, was alright. Neil was always trying to get him out of the room, asking him questions, being friendly and enthusiastic. Todd was always appreciative and made an effort, although that probably doesn't look like much to normal person, but he always made an excuse to get out of study group or hanging out with Neil and his friends to make it to the poetry section.
Todd's eyes landed on a book he hadn't seen before. It was red with gold words, "Great American Poetry," he mumbled to himself. He shrugged and took it off the shelf, opening it to see which poets were represented. Then he noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the pages, and when he pulled it out he saw that it was a letter. He read:
Dear someone, maybe,
I don't have a lot of hope that anyone other than myself will read this, but words can help you process things and get them off your chest, right? So here I am, putting myself out into the world for someone, somewhere, to maybe understand what I'm going through. Anyway, I'm a student at Welton in 1959. I love poetry and acting and my friends…and I'm gay. That's the one part of myself that I can't share, that no one knows about. I wish with everything in me that I have a boyfriend, be in public with him, even just tell my friends how I feel. I know none of that is likely to happen, at least not here at Welton, but I just need some hope that someone out there can relate to me. So, if you know what I'm going through, please leave something in this book just so I don't feel so alone. I know it's a long shot, but I need some sort of hope in my life right now.
-Ginsberg
Todd could barely breath by the end of the short letter, because he knew exactly what this letter writer was going through. Todd was gay, he had known for years that he was gay, but he never spoke a word of it to anyone. Hiding a part of yourself away like that just makes it easier to hid more and more of yourself away until you can't imagine truly opening up and connecting with someone. Todd knew that he had to write back to this guy, and hope in the same way that his words would be read and felt in the same way. Todd couldn't believe that he wasn't alone in this, as he had always assumed he was.
It was Thursday, which mean that Neil took his weekly walk to the library to check his book, Great American Poetry. As each week of the semester went by, the walk got a little lonelier and a little bleaker. Neil knew that there was the smallest fraction of a chance that someone would even find his letter, let alone respond to it, but he had to hope.
He walked straight to the shelf where his book resided, noticing as always that this small section of the library was deserted. He sighed, no one knew the value of poetry anymore, which was always a little heartbreaking to him, especially after soaking in each and every lesson Mr. Keating had been teaching them. Neil actually wrote his letter after the first class with Keating, feeling inspired to seize the day.
He grabbed the book off the shelf and flipped to the page where he had tucked his piece of paper, his heart nearly stopping when he realized it was gone. He franticly searched for another letter, soon finding it a few pages later. He couldn't believe his eyes, someone had actually written back! He prayed that it wasn't a joke or hate mail, and slowly opened up the paper. It was written in neat, black ink with quite a few words scratched out and replaced. He read:
Dear Ginsberg,
You are not alone. I'm gay, I go to Welton, and I understand what you're going through. I think keeping this secret for so long has made me keep other parts of myself a secret, until I just shut myself off from other people completely. This is a lonely way to live, but I find comfort in the words of poets who have lived much more life than I have. I think you might feel the same way, seeing as you left your letter in this book in particular.
Honestly, I can't believe I found your letter, that someone else is going through what I'm going through. I never thought this would happen. That being said, I would like to keep writing to you, to share this secret and the things that come along with it, but for now I think it should stay between the pages of this book. This part of myself has been so hidden for so long, and just finding someone who relates is almost more than I can fathom at the moment, but I want to keep writing to you, if that's okay. I just can't believe what's happening. Please write back.
-Whitman
At this point, Neil had sunk onto the floor with his back against the shelf to keep himself upright. Neil thought about how unlikely this scenario really was, someone actually found his letter in this book of poetry, wrote back, and is also gay. He was speechless and just had to sit there on the floor letting this new information soak in for a minute.
Then he was all smiles and energy, he basically skipped out of the library, never feeling so light. He had put his biggest secret out into the world and someone felt exactly the same way. Nothing could bring him down from that.