My Dearest Scott,
I apologize in advance for any tear stains you find on this letter.
First, you're wrong. It wasn't your fault that we were born in a conservative town in a conservative state.
But, you were wrong in that it was why we didn't work out.
We didn't work out because you were too much of a d*ck to once consider being a little weird to be with me.
I am openly out. You know I am. I'm still alive, though. I still have friends and a family and everything I need, though I'm still working for what I want.
Also, L.A. is the gay capital of the world, or it might as well be. But, you didn't take me to L.A. with you, didn't say, "Look, I'm moving somewhere we can both be free. Come with me, Mitch." I would've. Come with you, I mean.
You say you actually have something in L.A.? Wow. Getting to be an asshole to scared workers must be much more exciting that being with me was.
I just, I no longer want to hear your sorries. I can't take them anymore. I can tell you never actually mean them, and that, more than anything, actually hurts.
I really hate to do this, and this time, I am sorry.
This will be my last correspondence with you. I am breaking ties with you for my benefit, and for the benefit of your "reputation". Perhaps we will see each other in the future.
Goodbye, Scott.
Never doubt that you will forever have my love,
Mitchell Grassi
YOU ARE READING
No Feeling
RandomScott and Mitch were an open flame that burned bright. But, all the circumstances surrounding their secret relationship caused the fire to burn out too quickly. Read to witness the letters exchanged begging for forgiveness, for understanding, for...
