Dear You.

I’m sorry that your life’s a mess, and I’m sorry that things don’t work out and I’m sorry that you used to (and still could be, I’ll probably never know) be so sad all the time, and I’m sorry that you can’t find that someone yet (but neither can I, so you’re not alone in being alone ), and I’m sorry that I don’t give you the reaction that you want from me ( I just can’t bring myself to, even though I want to sometimes with my whole being), and I’m sorry that sometimes you feel lost (I seem to feel lost more than others, but maybe it’s because I never tell anyone and neither do they, but I’m working on it I really am can’t you tell? I told you how I felt before when you asked me if I noticed how they were changing even though they said they wouldn’t and I told you I did and that it made me feel lost too and that I didn’t fit in, but when you asked me I didn’t tell you the truth - that you have changed, you’re not the same, you’re different and I couldn’t tell you that because sometimes when people ask for the honest truth and you know that it will hurt them or that they won’t like the answer then it should be ok to tell a lie, to reassure them that no they haven’t changed at all, that they’re still the same person, even if everyone’s changing even if I’ve changed, because really, I have, I could tell you how I’m sad a lot of the time when I’m near the others, because I can feel how different things are and I can feel just how lost things are since they happened, and how I am changing, re orientating myself around them and refocusing the lenses of my eyes to how I see other people, I’m becoming a drifter, floating from place to place trying to figure out where I can place my anchors so that I don’t continue to drift away until I am nothing but a spot in the sky, and I could tell you how I know things won’t be the same, because they could never go back to how they were after everything that’s happened, and I can only remember how they were before everything was turned on it’s side, before the earth began to spin the other way, before that happened because for me, that was what started it all, the butterfly that had the effect on my world) and I’m sorry that I can’t tell you all this because if you want the truth I don’t think you’d know how to handle it and you’d just react the way you know I don’t like and that would put us back to where we were a few weeks ago - not speaking because you didn’t understand - but maybe you did understand, these days I’m just not sure how your brain works - I never was sure - and these days I am less sure than ever.

I wish I could, but I could never tell you this.

From Me.

I always wanted to be 17.

Well, not always, it was just something that, in the last two years, I looked toward becoming.

17 seemed so sophisticated. Old, but not old enough for all the responsibilities that come with turning 18, responsible, but young enough for it to be okay to still depend on my parents.

It seemed like the age of freedom, not from school, but from...I actually don't know what from. It's different than I thought. More difficult. It seems to be all about school, and drama with friends. Hot days, and fighting at home. Homework and assessments, Work, and days off. Looking forward to the holidays because I don't have to put up with school for six whole weeks. Late nights and sleep-ins. Staying up until everyone else has already gone to bed and the house is silent, and trying not to make any noise while I brush my teeth, or get a snack at 2 in the morning. Waking up feeling more tired than before I slept, but when night-time comes, I'll do it all again. Having the time to read long books that I don't have to analyse, or find any deeper meaning in, unless I wish to.

But for now, I wait.

I'd have to agree with you there.
But it will be ok :)