Letters I'll Never Send

Carlton

Carlton,

Hey, so... you're coming home with me today... well, not home, exactly. We are going to the library. You want to make out with me there, but I just wanna play games at Teen Game Night. I mean, I wouldn't mind making out with you if it weren't for the fact that all you want to do with me is make out. You don't want to be my boyfriend or my friend... you just want to be make out buddies. Which is cool, I guess. Because I have a problem with commitment and I fall in love too often with too many people, but still. It would be nice to be something more than just a pair of lips and a tongue, wouldn't it?
What am I saying? I want to do it. I want to just be your make out buddy, but I can't. It's not morally right and I somehow feel like I would be betraying Ross and myself.

You're not even cute anymore. You cut off all of your fabulous hair. Don't get me wrong, you're still very attractive, but I only recognize that as I would recognize a 50 year old man being attractive. Like, I don't actually WANT you anymore if that makes any sense.

Look, the only reason I ever wanted to date you before was because you were hot as heck and everyone I showed your picture to was like "ohmygod he is FINE" and I wanted that attention. I wanted to be known as the sophomore with an extremely hot junior boyfriend. I wanted my exes to see you and realize that I can and will do soooo much better than them. Mainly, I wanted to piss of Z. Why? Cuz he dated my (ex) best friend, so it's only fair if I date his. But then I realized he wouldn't care and I really don't either. Because the only reason I dated HIM was to start off the school year in a relationship (it's proven that if you start off the year in a relationship that you'll have a good year. Trust me I'm a Tumblarian). Yeah, I'm a B-word, but what can I say? I like my life. I like the way it's going right now and I like having a "forget you" attitude.
Yeah, I'm THAT girl.

Anyways, I don't like you. Sorry. And I know you don't like me anymore, so you can stop pretending now. You don't call me beautiful anymore and you don't talk to me like you did a month ago. Which is OK, trust me. I really don't mind because that just leaves me more open.

Speaking of not liking you, I have realized something. You are a very controlling, self-entitled, teenage dirt-bag. Yeup. Why do I say that? Remember Saturday when we were texting and I told you not to come to the mall cuz I look like a hobo today? And you asked why and I said that I didn't feel like dressing up cute? Do you remember what you replied with? Cuz I do.
You said, "Well, you're not cute if you keep wearing that stupid jacket." The 'stupid jacket' in which you were referring to, was my XXL sweatshirt that provides me with warmth and comfort. For some reason, that hoodie lets me hide, which makes me able to do more things that my anxiety prevents me from doing. You could say that it's my safety blanket, I guess.
And what does it matter to you? Who are you to tell me what I do and do not look cute in? In no way was I inviting you to come and attack me like that.
Oh, and then on Monday, as if you hadn't learned your lesson from the sweatshirt incident, you decided to get on to me for wearing heels because you didn't like them. Why are you trying to tell me what I can and cannot wear? You have NO RIGHT to take control over me like that?
You don't like my outfits? DON'T HANG OUT WITH ME THEN. Because I sure as hell am not going to dress for you. I dress for ME and if you can't handle that then

SCREW

YOU.

Why did I even ask you to be my Valentine? My Valentine is a huge jerkface. God, now I'm all riled up again. How on earth am I supposed to spend all afternoon with you without punching you in the flipping face?

-EMILY