"I'm not lost, I just haven't found...everything I need. I'm not torn, I'm just getting it together. I'm not broken, don't you mind...the pieces of me you see scattered on the ground, I swear I'll turn this all around. I'm not home, but I'm sitting...here in my room...I'm a photograph in need of a zoom. I feel far away, I can't make out the face: it's all blurred, since you went away."- Bowling For Soup

Arnold,

I'm heartbroken. Crimeney! I'm heartbroken, just when I thought it was finally over; and it's all because of you.

Then again, I should have known something was wrong: I hadn't thought of you much that day. It would have been pure insanity intermingled with delusion for me to think that I could get over someone as perfect as you.

What's causing this, you ask? Well, his name is Steven. He's kind of cute, he's sweet and we became friends at some point. Eventually, he asked me out on a date and well – I went. We dated for a few weeks. It was nice at first, you know, a blissful distraction.

Then, when we were going to take it a step further, I literally burst into tears.

I tried controlling it, I tried holding it in, but I couldn't. The tears wouldn't stop, it was like a leak straight from my cursed heart. I curled into a ball and turned so as not to face him and I made as little noise as possible, but that dolt still understood that I was crying. He asked me what in the world was wrong, and if it was him, if he'd done something reprehensible. He said he was sorry, that perhaps he might have come unto me too fast, and I told him that it wasn't any of that.

He lied and swore that he cared about me, that whatever it was that was troubling me was clearly important and so that, if it was relevant to me, he also wanted to know what it was.

I mumbled the words, but he didn't hear.

I said I missed you.

Arnold, I miss you. So much.

And why did you have to say that? Why did you tell me you'd write to me only never to even send one freaking letter? Not even a Facebook message, an email, nothing.

Why would you lie to me like this? Did you underestimate how much I cared or did you do it purposefully to hurt me? No, you'd never do that, but in that case, I simply cannot comprehend why you'd pain me by saying something like that. You also said you'd visit, and what of it, Arnoldo? Where are you? Where are you every night when I try to fall asleep to the sound of Big Bob shouting at Miriam, and occasionally her arguing back and crying? Did you know he's been cheating on her recently? As if being a jerk and a blowhard wasn't enough.

Where are you when I sit alone at lunch because Phoebe's busy with her group of nerds or Tall-hair boy and Curly's off chasing Rhonda? Where are you when I'm miserable and feel like the world would be better off without me? Where are you when I feel as if no one would care if I were to mysteriously disappear from the face of the Earth?

Steven thinks he's there, wants to be there, but he's not, because he can't pierce through the shell. It's not his fault, he cares about me, but no more about me than he would about any other girl he'd find cute, smart and funny. I'm not special. He cares about me like he'll care about dozens of girls in his life.

And here I am, trying to banish the very thought of you from my mind and failing; here I am thinking of you every second, every moment, and every day. Here I am now no longer texting or calling Steven, no longer replying to his phone calls because I dread the thought of what happened last time and the possibility of it happening again.

I don't even know who to share this with – besides Curly that is, but even him, it doesn't quite work, he's different. I love you, I'm also obsessed with you because Love without obsession isn't Love at all, but he's just obsessed with Rhonda. Or maybe I'm just telling myself that to make myself feel better, maybe I really AM as creepy and twisted as him.

The difference between Curly and I is that I'm masochistic: loving you isn't enough, I need you to love me back. I don't have Curly's insane optimism that you secretely adore me but are in denial of your feelings, I'm a pessimist by nature; a pessimist and a hopeless romantic.

I don't know what to do. So once again, I try to flee my problems, except Miriam has forever disgusted my from alcohol and I hate the taste of cigarettes, therefore, my only catharsis is writing. Nowadays though, it's not enough, so I'm also looking for a part time job and to do charity work to get busy, so busy, that I'll only have time to sleep, eat, go to the bathroom, and do the tasks in question. I don't even want one spare second to think of you.

Phoebe's still my best friend by the way, but although she knows, I mean, she's known for ages, in a way, she doesn't get it, you know? I can't blame her: most people will never feel the way I feel for you towards someone else for their entire lives; plus I can't bother her all the time, she's very busy with school and stuff and, although I may be bossy when I'm with her, I still take her into consideration. I know her studies and getting into an Ivy League schools mean the world to her so I don't want to detract her from that goal by whining about you all the time. Except it's not whining: it's like an eternal wound in my chest, a non-palpable one that cannot be healed.

It's making me lose it, it's making me miserable.

A few months ago, I thought I'd finally mostly gotten over you, but it's like a drug: after that, I relapsed and started this, and ever since my last interaction with Steven, it's only gotten worse.

Nowadays, it hurts more than ever.

Anyway, this isn't even a letter to you so much as it's my own personal thoughts written on Microsoft Word. It's pretty much no different from back when I wrote about you in my little pink book.

I don't know what to do, Arnold. If there was another expression, an even more intense one in the English language to express just how miserable I am without you, just how much your absence is like a stab in my heart, I'd use it. I feel like no words can give this justice.

I'm slowly beginning to fear that I will feel devastated and lonely for the rest of my days if you're not there with me. No matter what the place, no matter what school or job I have, no matter how great the friends I'd have could be, I would still feel sad and lonely without you by my side, or at least, that's the future that seems to be slowly mapping out in front of me.

I think I'll go for a walk now. I need to try and clear my thoughts. If only I drank or smoked.

Goodbye my Love.

Sincerely,

Helga G. Pataki