[Author's Note: This started off being a school assignment, but then I
ended up writing about someone who was all bastardy to me, and this is the
result:)]
Jack,
I want you to know who you are. I don't know if you'll even read this letter, but I'm going to pour out everything I've got. You can take my feelings and fears and all that I am, and you can rip them apart. I don't care. It's nothing you haven't done before.
I was twelve when I met you. Before you, I played football with my friends, traded baseball cards, and annoyed the girls that I liked. I'm sure you did the same. Then by some sick twist of fate, we ended up stranded on the same island. We both know what happened there. I was a boy then, but I didn't leave the island like that. I grew up fast, and you know why. You were just a boy then too, and like me, you didn't leave that way. But unlike me, you will never be a man.
Do you have any idea what you did to me? I can't go a day without thinking about you. I know that you don't deserve a second thought, but I can't help it. I didn't mind how I was turning out. I had room to grow, and then I met you. I was just a boy, do you understand what that meant? Do you look back with regret?
Only years distance me from what happened. The loneliness still steals my sanity when I least expect it; I can still feel the embarrassment hot on my face; and my own ability with which I can hate still scares the hell out of me.
I pray that you are unloved. I pray that someone hurts you and leaves you to survive without hope. I pray that you know what it's like to run on empty and to never feel safe. I pray that you know what it feels like to be completely alone and suddenly realize how much you hate yourself.
I hate that I allowed myself to cry over you. And I despise that the only feeling that I can always rely on is hate. Hate for you, hate for myself, hate for the world, hate for everyone that doesn't understand. No one will ever understand why I am the way I am, because I'm too ashamed to tell them what happened. Do you think anyone could love a coward? I never even figured out how to love, you know. I gave up on trying to find happiness, because I can't trust and I'm always scared. You took my innocence and you molested it.
All the delightfully vulgar words I've added to my vocabulary over the years could never do justice for the feelings I reserve for you and everything you did. I don't want to lower myself to your level by unleashing a string of profanity and insults, so I'm trying to be as mature as possible. However, maturity's effect would probably be lost on you, so I don't know why I bother.
I'm just really mad at you, Jack.
If you're still reading, I don't care. I also don't care what you do with this letter. Throw it out, cry over it, laugh about it with your friends. I only wanted you to know that you are personally responsible for my isolation even today, a world away from the horrors of the island. I know that that knowledge won't help me at all, and will only give you more power to strip from me, which is why I'm not sending this. I'll tuck it away safely with all the other letters I've written for you. You don't deserve them.
Ralph
Jack,
I want you to know who you are. I don't know if you'll even read this letter, but I'm going to pour out everything I've got. You can take my feelings and fears and all that I am, and you can rip them apart. I don't care. It's nothing you haven't done before.
I was twelve when I met you. Before you, I played football with my friends, traded baseball cards, and annoyed the girls that I liked. I'm sure you did the same. Then by some sick twist of fate, we ended up stranded on the same island. We both know what happened there. I was a boy then, but I didn't leave the island like that. I grew up fast, and you know why. You were just a boy then too, and like me, you didn't leave that way. But unlike me, you will never be a man.
Do you have any idea what you did to me? I can't go a day without thinking about you. I know that you don't deserve a second thought, but I can't help it. I didn't mind how I was turning out. I had room to grow, and then I met you. I was just a boy, do you understand what that meant? Do you look back with regret?
Only years distance me from what happened. The loneliness still steals my sanity when I least expect it; I can still feel the embarrassment hot on my face; and my own ability with which I can hate still scares the hell out of me.
I pray that you are unloved. I pray that someone hurts you and leaves you to survive without hope. I pray that you know what it's like to run on empty and to never feel safe. I pray that you know what it feels like to be completely alone and suddenly realize how much you hate yourself.
I hate that I allowed myself to cry over you. And I despise that the only feeling that I can always rely on is hate. Hate for you, hate for myself, hate for the world, hate for everyone that doesn't understand. No one will ever understand why I am the way I am, because I'm too ashamed to tell them what happened. Do you think anyone could love a coward? I never even figured out how to love, you know. I gave up on trying to find happiness, because I can't trust and I'm always scared. You took my innocence and you molested it.
All the delightfully vulgar words I've added to my vocabulary over the years could never do justice for the feelings I reserve for you and everything you did. I don't want to lower myself to your level by unleashing a string of profanity and insults, so I'm trying to be as mature as possible. However, maturity's effect would probably be lost on you, so I don't know why I bother.
I'm just really mad at you, Jack.
If you're still reading, I don't care. I also don't care what you do with this letter. Throw it out, cry over it, laugh about it with your friends. I only wanted you to know that you are personally responsible for my isolation even today, a world away from the horrors of the island. I know that that knowledge won't help me at all, and will only give you more power to strip from me, which is why I'm not sending this. I'll tuck it away safely with all the other letters I've written for you. You don't deserve them.
Ralph