Title: Unsent Letter #50.

Continuity: Anytime between 'The Merger' (Season Three's 8th episode) and 'The Negotiation' (Season Three's 18th episode.)

Song: -.

Feedback: Of course, reviews are highly appreciated.

Warning/Comments: Slightly A/U. Pam-centric. I'm sorry it took a little too long to update this time but school's already begun to drive me crazy and I don't have time much time to write. I really hope you like this chapter, it was a wonderful, sudden inspiration and I wrote it in like, 10 minutes. (Something that, sadly, almost never happens. XD) Oh, and by the way, the lyrics that Pam briefly quotes belong to 'I cut off my hair' by the wonderful, wonderful Regina Spektor. This chapter goes to Dai, for being such an awesome, understanding friend and such a wonderful, interesting, talented person.

Dear Jim:

The reason I'm writing this letter is that I seem to have become unable of accepting reality. It appears that I have a problem differentiating between what I want, and what it is. For example, I was hoping that when you came back to Scranton we would talk about what happened in Casino Night. We kissed. You remember, right? It hasn't been so long, even if it feels like a decade has passed. I hoped we could work things out. I mean, I didn't expect you to still be in love with me or anything (okay, maybe I did; that's not the point). I did expect you, however, to still want to be my friend. I thought we were best friends. And best friends are supposed to last forever. So I'm confused.

Maybe we weren't as good friends as I thought. Maybe I just wore you down and you took the first chance you got to escape from me. Maybe I hurt you and that's why you moved away. I don't know. Whatever was the cause of you leaving, I hoped things would be better when you came back. I was happy that you were coming back. So, so happy. You have no idea. Yet now you're back and everything is just so different, so weird and awkward between us.

Now there's Karen, and why do I feel this way about her? Why don't I like her? And why in Hell do you act as if I don't exist? Why do you ignore me? Can't you see I was waiting for you? Can't you see I miss you and I want us to be friends again? I mean, you should have seen it. Why else would I be so desperately trying to get a chance to be around you? I can't believe you're not doing anything to fix our friendship up. Maybe you don't want to. Is it that you're still angry at me? You probably got really angry at me for shutting you down and choosing Roy instead.

I know exactly how you feel, actually. You're doing the same to me now, with Karen. That's wrong. I mean, I know I did it, but aren't you supposed to be the better person? Aren't you supposed to be better than this? I think you are. I think we're both better than this, Jim. Maybe I'm asking for too much, who knows? Maybe that's just another consequence of confusing what I want and what it is: I want us to be better than this, but right now, we aren't. Maybe we can't be, but I keep foolishly hoping things will change. I guess I'm crazy. Isn't that how a song goes? The definition of a crazy person is: someone that does the same things over and over again while expecting new results. Yeah, I think that's how it goes.

Anyway, I'm not trying to bore you here. Where was I? Oh, right. Being a better person and all. We should be better than this. Also, Karen should move back to Connecticut. Don't you think? Why do you need her for if you have me? Okay, that was terribly selfish and lame. Sorry about that. But I do have some trouble (major trouble, actually) accepting the fact that you are dating someone. I guess it's hard for me because, like I told you, I was hoping things to go different.

Not that I have any romantic expectations on you or anything. That'd be inappropriate. I'm just confused, that's all, because there are some… 'contradictions' between what I want and what it is. (Probably I'm an idiot for wanting you to care about me in some way, since I was the one to make you feel miserable on the first place, but I can't help myself. I guess it's impossible to not have that kind of wishes when you're in love. And I am, very much in love. Too bad it's unrequited and that makes dreams become nightmares. Blame it on my bad luck.)

To make it shorter, here are the facts: I don't know if you've forgiven me. (I certainly wish you have.) I guess you don't love me, need me or miss me, since you're with Karen. (But I would be delighted if things were different.) You're theoretically my friend, but we act like we're strangers. (And I wish we were the same as before things got so messy.) You and Karen make a great couple, and you seem to be doing fine. (No matter how much I wish otherwise.) See? What I want gets in the way of what it is, over and over again. I can't separate wishes from facts, and that's been happening to me for a long time. (Ever since I realized I'm in love with you.) Oh, gosh, I wasn't even supposed to tell you that. I only wrote this letter because I wanted to tell you about what my life has become: there's what I want and there's what it is, as separate entities, and then there's me, trying not to fall into the huge abyss between them. It's awful. Help me, Jim. I'm trying here and I can't survive like this. Only you can change things. The future of our friendship depends on you. Even more important, I depend on you. Don't let me down, please.

Yours, Pam.

She very softly laid one finger on the Enter button. She only had to press it and the e-mail would be sent. But she hesitated. Was she ready to let the world know her truth? Was she ready to fight for what she wanted? Was it really worth fighting for? Or was she just confused? She swallowed hard, raised her finger, but she stopped when she was about to hit the button. Acting impulsively, she cut the content from the e-mail, pasted into a text file and closed her Hotmail's inbox. Sighing deeply, she saved the document inside a folder.

The folder's name: SUL.

Code for Secret Unsent Letters.

She glanced at him, fought back the tears and mentally counted the times she'd been through that process during the last weeks. The result of the calculation didn't please her at all.

Written letters: 50.

Letters sent: 0.