Allison Q...like that letter. yeah 000119
Equin0x Every one of them promised to write to me. I'm waiting, still. 000524

the letter came in the mail today,
wasn't expecting it here so soon.
t'was a surprise, a shock to me
on a cold and lonely afternoon

i was scared of what the thing might say,
for all its truths are merely lies.
i tell myself that, to feel better...
deep within, it terrifies...

i hate it so because it speaks..
it could possibly bear the truth,
unearth a deep dark secret past
Of my once-pure soul and wasted youth.
rollins "Hello Henry,

I am sorry for my English but i understand English very little. Thank you for your favor. My name is Boris. Have 24 years in Czech Republic. You played in Czech 2X. Both concerts, they were splendid. Onto concert I'm should have collective photo but small bald headed technologist be insane."

In translation: I thinkhe took his roll of film to Rite Aid and had a bad Rite Aid experience, where time seems to slooooow doooowwwwnnnn. I think Boris got his film fucked up by the technologist who must be WHOO!! A bit insane.
Christy to J. on his seventeenth birthday

The years have passed oh so quickly but they’ve taken their toll on me. I remember when you turned thirteen. When I think of all that has and hasn‘t happened between us since that milestone, I weep, but no longer for the possibilities. I regret never getting to know you better. Even platonically.

I realize I never truly apologized for the horrible things I said about you in 1998. I regret letting all of the negativity carry into the early months of 1999. I don‘t know if you‘re one to hold a grudge. I wish I was more aware of such aspects of your seemingly complex personality.

I‘d like to finally explain to you, the only one I’ve truly ever owed the explanation to, my actions during that sinkhole year, some thirty months ago. Even then, my feelings for you ran deep. I was hurt that you didn’t return the sentiments I had so carefully harbored. I‘d never told anyone. I didn‘t plan to. Yet when my crush was discovered--when it was guessed--I recognized the experience as new and I was hopeful. Unfortunately, I failed to be considerate to the other party involved. I didn‘t place myself in your shoes. I knew only that you stood so silent, unwilling to discuss the matter with me. I realize now that you didn‘t want to hurt my feelings. I thank you for that--you‘ve always been so kind. But oh, I badmouthed you to comfort myself. I had to make myself--and everyone else--believe.

I wish it all could have ended with that, but as the masquerade ceased shortly thereafter, I was left weeping gently. The toll my words took on me was larger than I’d like to believe. I was guilty, I knew. I truly believed I was the scum of the earth until the truth occurred to me that summer, when I began to miss your clever comments and creative competition.

I didn’t know how to make it up to you. I suppose I never learned.

Sophomore and junior year were the same. I showed my affection for you always, my enthusiasm increasing as time went on. I apologize for bothering you, J., but don’t ever think that my devotion wasn‘t real. I know now that love and hate aren‘t emotions to be joked about, because for a time, I convinced myself that the vast differences between these two conflicting emotions were indistinguishable. Oh but J., you taught me to speak the truth, not to cover my feelings with a burial shroud as I had done during our freshman year.

With all my heart, I wish I had never brought out the burial cloth to hide my affection for you, but hindsight is always 20/20. I wish I were more attractive so that I could have been the one to end your lonely spell, but the absence of chemistry between us has taught me that attraction is not something that can be built up gradually. Perhaps respect is, though, for over the years, mine for you has multiplied.

I no longer question your motives and methods, for you‘ve remained stolid and successful in all the time I‘ve known you. I trust and respect your decisions. You have a rare special quality, J. dear, one that I’m still unable to define, even after all these years.

You will go far in life. I wish you the very best of luck. Your presence throughout my high school education has taught me the business of the heart and for that I will never forget you.

Thank you, J., for everything. Happy birthday.

myplasticmind long letters...

i love getting letters because it means that someone actually cared anough to send you their words...even if they are ugly.
i send you a part of myself everytime i seal the envelope with my wet tongue.
Rhin Jealousy, anger, distrust, guilt and shame consume me,
And threaten to suffocate me.
I remember, for a moment, a time when I loved completely.
When I trusted completely.
A time when I looked at the world through eyes squinted from smiling and laughing.

Jealousy, anger, distrust, guilt and shame consume me,
And I can't see through tear filled eyes,
Squinted from emotional agony,
And I wonder
What have I done?
What have I done!
spades41 why won't anyone write me my letter? i've waited 20 l-o-n-g years for it, and it still hasn't come. perhaps the mailman tripped on the steps outside. i believe i'll look to make sure. 030227
chaotica can someone do me a favour?

send a nice letter to someone you know - it'll improve your life and theirs.
Jess Il have two vowels and a consonant please Carol! 040515
pete i write my letters, i speak my words through them. i hold conversatoins with people who are not there. people who will read the words after i send them out, and they will read the words of a week, of two weeks, in a day. sitting alone reading the stories, the thoughts, the letters. one remains unsent. it will probaly stay that way for a long time. i will look at it and sigh. but i still spoke my words to the one the letter is intended for. i am slowly moving towards not addressing my letters. you who read them know they are for you, and so do i. why do we need to see your name at the top? the date will do, telling you when it was written. drop. noise. silence. stills. 040516
Jess I'l read your letter Pete! 040609
puredream Just send it. 040609
pete all my letters are sent, except for one which was more just me talking to myself on paper, and the reply im writting to a letter i got a few days ago..

i love letters
witchesrequiem I was always great at letters...
e-mail? I guess it's not the words it's the essence of the ink, paper an fingerprints placed in to it.

He reads them..yet does not comprehend. Still he writes back.
|read| Do you comprehend him? 040611
pete email me your adress jess and ill send you a letter!

(something i thought but forgot to write yesterday)
Jess I've sent you an email!
When will I get my letter then?
Jess Oh wait!
Do you want my home adress?
Well, I live in England, is that too far away?
I'l be happy wih a nice email!
lou_la_belle it's already sealed
just waiting for a stamp
there's no going back.
any hope
i ever had
is in that letter
any dream
i had of him
is in that letter
i've never been so scared
nor so relieved

it won't matter
what he does
from here on in
because I'll never regret
that letter.
wch&Personnel yes. the tow of it you wrote two me, the relation was always in your hands, i knew you it, you wanted it, guess we both made things to happen like that 041112
tr i wrote you thousand of letters and when I was done, I suddenly had to realize that I never had your adress...
where send them to?
I watched the ashes flow down the sink. My existence ebbs away. That’s the story of my life. I can’t seem to cry. The fire in my eyes evaporates the tears. I write another cathartic line. I pick up some of the pieces healed through time. Other pieces eroded beyond recognition. How can I be the light of someone’s life when the constantly wear shades? How can I be their sunshine when they’re afraid to step outside? Must there be only chaos in my mind? Must there only be hate in my heart? A hate that I dare not project? I need to make the transition from Hate to Love. Can it be done? Can I accomplish the Switch, or should I strive for balance. Are the answers in front of me or are they in my nightmares? I watch the ashes flow down the sink. A single page that changed my life. A single page that locked my heart. I stare at the single photograph on my desk, yet I write another cathartic line.
metriosisisthedevil We are all monsters. And we all have torpedos for skin and we shoot one another and absolutely explode each other into one trillion pieces for our own sakes. It is only when we are willing to turn the torpedos on ourselves that we allow others to monsterize us, and we will monsterize them back. 050329
Nifrodel who has send us as a letters? 050409
mona loves you An open letter to you:

There are some things you should know, that you could already know if you were more perceptiveor cared to really get to know me. Ok, so sure you know me. You know me people at work know me, just enough to be a little more than acquaintances. I know you. I chose to get to know you. I asked you questions, I probed your mind; I learned how you react emotionally to situations; situations that most involve the heart. And many times my heart, but you don’t know that.

If you knew me, if you really knew me, you would know this: I care about people. I easily open myself up to people and often get people to open up to me. You did. But I have never been so open with one person as I have been with you. Because of this I care about you. I care when I don’t care. I care when I never see you and every time you sayHiafter a year of never having contact, I care all over again. I just can’t stop. And this is why I say goodbye.
jane wish someone would write me a letter. 070627
stork daddy l 070628
jane i mean a letter in the mail, smartass.

ah yes, i forgot your charm came from your smart ass.

endless desire sometimes I go days without noticing,
even though I wear your thin, gold watch every day.
maybe even weeks without noticing.
but it occurred to me I won't get a letter again,
with all that ancient cursive I can barely decipher.
and the thought of your letters stopping,
that's what makes my chest tight.
I don't cry anymore really.
It's just a cold silence that the dead leave with us.
Notunknown I have had a letter in me for so long. An explanation. An apology. A confession. A statement. I don't know. A letter.

The whole time I knew you - you, who was so open and honest with me, so beautiful and true and soft - I was scared. Scared the whole time. I held back. I kept my spine stiff and my skin like diamond. I would sparkle for you, but not crack. I never let you in enough. I never gave you what you wanted. What you needed. What you deserved.

I suffer for it. I would say about 4 dreams a week contain you, in solid, vivid real-ness. You are 3D, you laugh, you walk (as I had previously seen), you hold my hand as we hobble down side streets in north London and we glow, in a way I've never known.

Sometimes I wish I was braver, that if I went back in time that I think I could have cracked myself open, that I could have given you the words you wanted, the touches, the sighs in darkness, all of it. But instead I was terrified, constantly. Of consequence, of addiction, of something that I didn't even know the name of.

It wasn't easy. And it wasn't always good and you were certainly not always perfect. But nor was I.

But together we created something I've never experienced before and never will again.

I feel as though you healed me, and I broke you. That I left you with nothing but heart ache and tears and although I had pain, it was nothing like yours. I took from you. And although I said, constantly, and still say, that this was never ever my intention, never my wish or desire or hope or dream to harm you in any way - I still did.

And living with that is one of the hardest things.

This is my confession. My letter.

I am so sorry.
Risen Please, don't be.

I knew what I was getting myself into. We both knew there was only one way for it to end.

And it is, after all, Karma. Exactly what I deserved.

But I think, having read the above, that maybe it is a blessing that I don't dream anymore (literally, although methaphorically works too).
Risen And you taught me a lot, and I cannot be sorry for that, or regret the time. 170601
what's it to you?
who go