Dear Adam,
I think this is the first letter I've ever written – though I don't think it'll ever get posted… but I just feel so messed up at the moment. And when I tried to talk about it, you threatened to kill me, so I'm just gonna write all this crap down so I don't drown in it. I just don't know, man…
I mean, how f***ed up can one single person be? What the heck were you even playing at, exactly?
Are we supposed to be together now, or are we just… what are we? I seriously don't get it. How could you go from tormenting me, humiliating me, threatening me to f***ing me in ten seconds? Did it make you feel powerful or something? Are you that sick, or do you just not have a clue how to treat others? And how sick am I for enjoying it?
Anyway, these days, school sucks even more than usual. It's buzzing with rumours about where you're gone to and what exactly happened and what the actual final straw was. Turns out people have been placing bets on how much longer you were going to last before being sent to military school. It's sick. I don't know how they derive pleasure from such crappy behaviour… me, I'm sorry. I've kind of felt sorry ever since I saw you with your dad at the dance. I didn't know it, but I have so much you don't have, that you'll probably never have…
Your dad is as cold as ice, man. I guess you've spent a lot of your life scared out of your wits… Maybe mil school isn't even that bad, eh? At least the teachers there are probably supposed to treat you like s**t. Dads are supposed to love us, so I guess it's worse if they don't. Or maybe that place is as bad as I imagine it…?
Man, I wish we could talk. I wish I knew what you were thinking when you… I mean, I don't even know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn't thinking anything. It just felt good, you know? It did, you should know that. And I wouldn't even mind repeating the experience, you know? But you're not here.
What am I supposed to do now? Should I wait around or something? I can't picture you writing me soppy letters, let alone calling me. What's more, rumour has it that such places are crammed with gay guys. Might keep you busy anyway, eh? Sorry, bad joke, I guess.
Tell you what, I'm not gonna read through this ever again. That's the only way I stand a chance of ever posting it. And if I don't, you don't even have my address. So I'll try.
Bye then. Take care.
CU in the holidays (maybe).
Eric