Standard stuff applies
Dear Rory,
I don't know why I keep writing to you. I know I have no chance of getting a letter back. And you're probably not even reading these. It's kinda nice though. Throwing words and feelings out into the void.
I said before that there isn't a lot of time to think about stuff. But then the nights come. They're long, and cold. Make me think. Make me wish, and hope and dream. I don't like the nights.
I got into a fight the other day. It was a good one too. Made me feel better. But it really wasn't my fault, I swear. See, no one here knew where I came from. I mean, they knew I was from Connecticut, so they called me rich boy or blue blood. But see, they did know how right they were. Anyway, the other day I got a letter from Paris, (she's been writing to me. Why can't you?) and in it were some pictures of home. She decided to give me tour of Connecticut through pictures. Well, the pics got passed around and when some of them saw how I lived, they decided to "teach me how the other half lives." I got the crap beaten out of me, but it felt good in a way. I took a few of them down though. As it turns out Blue Blood can take a punch. I still remember the last time I got into a fight. This time, it doesn't hurt half as much I did that night. Glad you weren't here to see it this time.
Love, Tristen
Dear Rory,
I don't know why I keep writing to you. I know I have no chance of getting a letter back. And you're probably not even reading these. It's kinda nice though. Throwing words and feelings out into the void.
I said before that there isn't a lot of time to think about stuff. But then the nights come. They're long, and cold. Make me think. Make me wish, and hope and dream. I don't like the nights.
I got into a fight the other day. It was a good one too. Made me feel better. But it really wasn't my fault, I swear. See, no one here knew where I came from. I mean, they knew I was from Connecticut, so they called me rich boy or blue blood. But see, they did know how right they were. Anyway, the other day I got a letter from Paris, (she's been writing to me. Why can't you?) and in it were some pictures of home. She decided to give me tour of Connecticut through pictures. Well, the pics got passed around and when some of them saw how I lived, they decided to "teach me how the other half lives." I got the crap beaten out of me, but it felt good in a way. I took a few of them down though. As it turns out Blue Blood can take a punch. I still remember the last time I got into a fight. This time, it doesn't hurt half as much I did that night. Glad you weren't here to see it this time.
Love, Tristen