Dear Rory,
Here I am. Lying in bed. Almost everyone has left for break, and I'm still here. I told you about the nights, right? How they get really long and lonely. Do you know I what I think about when I can't sleep? Everything. I think of everything but you. But for some reason tonight, I can't get you out of my head. So I thought I'd write another letter they you'll never read.
When I first met you, it was a game. I didn't see you as anything else. But you didn't play. I'd never met anyone like you, and that scared me. You were different, and I didn't know how to deal with you. I didn't know how to play you. You freaked me out Mary. I think I wanted to make you like me. If I couldn't beat you, I'd convert you. I made your life miserable, I know that. I made you hate me, and you don't really hate anyone. I wish I could say I'm sorry, I know I'm supposed to feel sorry, but I'm not.
I'm not sorry for any of it. Because if I hadn't bothered you, if I hadn't made it my personal mission to make you crazy, then I would have never gotten to know you. If I had seen you that first day and ignored you, I don't think we would have had much opportunity to speak. I never would have gotten a look at that caring heart of yours. I'd have never seen that fire in your eyes. So I'm not sorry, for any of it. I'm not sorry for teasing you. I'm not sorry for making you hate me. I'm not sorry for kissing you that night at the party. I'm not sorry for any of it. I'm not sorry for having known you, Mary, I'm not. And I refuse to pretend I am. I just want you to be happy Mary, that's all. But I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for having had you in my life. Even if it was just for a little while.
Love, Tristen
Here I am. Lying in bed. Almost everyone has left for break, and I'm still here. I told you about the nights, right? How they get really long and lonely. Do you know I what I think about when I can't sleep? Everything. I think of everything but you. But for some reason tonight, I can't get you out of my head. So I thought I'd write another letter they you'll never read.
When I first met you, it was a game. I didn't see you as anything else. But you didn't play. I'd never met anyone like you, and that scared me. You were different, and I didn't know how to deal with you. I didn't know how to play you. You freaked me out Mary. I think I wanted to make you like me. If I couldn't beat you, I'd convert you. I made your life miserable, I know that. I made you hate me, and you don't really hate anyone. I wish I could say I'm sorry, I know I'm supposed to feel sorry, but I'm not.
I'm not sorry for any of it. Because if I hadn't bothered you, if I hadn't made it my personal mission to make you crazy, then I would have never gotten to know you. If I had seen you that first day and ignored you, I don't think we would have had much opportunity to speak. I never would have gotten a look at that caring heart of yours. I'd have never seen that fire in your eyes. So I'm not sorry, for any of it. I'm not sorry for teasing you. I'm not sorry for making you hate me. I'm not sorry for kissing you that night at the party. I'm not sorry for any of it. I'm not sorry for having known you, Mary, I'm not. And I refuse to pretend I am. I just want you to be happy Mary, that's all. But I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for having had you in my life. Even if it was just for a little while.
Love, Tristen