December 1st, 1988

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R.

I'm writing this is fifth period with a broken heart. I should be taking notes down for the geography quiz we have before winter break, but my hands are shaking and I cannot seem to see straight.

I don't know what a broken heart feels like, but it surely must feel just like this.

Stan wasn't at the staircase where the losers meet up before school, so we assumed he was just in class early. God, I'm going to start crying. Why? This is stupid. I'm not crying. I'm not.

He wasn't in first period either, so maybe he called in sick? But by third period, I saw him in the halls, smiling at you from across the hall and promising to see you at lunch. I didn't think anything of it, whatever, you know? You were walking into your classroom so I couldn't catch up with you fast enough, but I did get Stan by the shoulder.

I asked him "Hey! What were you and Richie talking about?"

Looking back on it now, I surely know that what face he gave me was only one of guilt. I should have seen it in his features, after all, I've known the boy since we were in diapers. But I was naive and optimistic, and all I wanted was to hear something about you to get me through the day. Anything. A single Tozier funfact is all I craved to pick my mood up.

"N-Nothing," Stan mumbled. "Just... you know, plans."

I didn't know you guys were making plans without me, you would have told me. You would have. I know you would have. So I nodded, tried to not act hurt, and went to class.

It all became very, very, very clear to me when lunch time arrived.

I don't want to admit that I am so ultimately betrayed by you, Richie, but I fucking am. It hurts. Do you feel that at all? Do you feel that pain? Or were you just lying to me when you said I was the one? Why the fuck would you- Why would you? Why? Is it just some joke to you to watch me get my hopes up only to inevitably let me down and move onto your next victim? It fucking hurts, but I can't figure out why. I don't want to believe that you would just move from me to Stan so quickly, but I guess I don't know a thing about you, not really.

Bill noticed as well, he told me that we could go to the cinema after school to get my mind off of it. I invited Ben as well, he always makes me laugh. Chucks, as you would call them. You and your fucking chucks.

I hope you got some good chucks out of this, Richie, because I don't think it's chuckalicious at all. It's fucking... its selfish. You're so fucking selfish. Why would you make me care so much? Why would you make me want you, tell me you want me too, then turn around and spark up this chummy relationship with Stan? It hurts.

And of all people- you had to go for someone in the losers club as well. My best friend, Richie. My best friend. Do you realize how much that fucking hurts me? God, I feel just like Henry Bowers. Is this your party trick? You gaslight and manipulate people into loving you just so you can leave them? I thought I knew you. I thought I could trust you.

I can't believe I'm fucking crying over you in the middle of class.

You don't deserve my tears. You don't.

I hope Stan doesn't fall for your dimples and ugly fashion the exact same way I did, but he's smarter than that. He is so intelligent, much more intelligent than you and I are, so maybe he'll be safe. I hope so.

Nobody ever deserves to feel their heart break like this. Nobody. Not even Henry Bowers. I think I get what he means by being replaced, and I can understand why he's so angry all the time. It's not rage that makes him an asshole, Richie. It's you. You broke his damn heart, and you're breaking mine too.

I understand him a bit better now that I've been where he is. So, with that, I have one question for you.

Why was it Stan? Why wasn't it me?

no longer yours,
Eds. Eddie.

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