letters in my trash can

The undelivered.

To John Stamos, forgive me for my frequent eye contact but I think if we had the chance we would be good friends.

To the emu enthusiast, we walked together in heaven. I know it. I like you.

To the manic-depressive writer, I lied. I'm not ok most the time but I'd like to think that I'm good at acting. I'm afraid that time will run out and I will still be burning on the back of your stove. But at least I'm a pot of tea. That's your favorite.

To my best friend born to the worst circumstances, I'll see you again. I promise. But until then, keep laughing that sassy laugh of yours and picking up the kids that cry on the dusty playground. You're a leader. You just might be the one to lift your village out of their slump.

To that one kid, sorry I'm so awkward around you. I blame it on the half year of home schooling.

To the strange baby child, you are the most patient person on this planet. You not only deal with me, but you love me for some reason. You don't know how much that means. I could have tickle fights with you forever.

To my best friend brain, you suck.

To the boy I always turn to, yes. I might be secretly in love with you. But it's the old you, not the new you.

To Brigham Young University, like John Stamos, I think once we break the ice we'll be great friends. But right now you scare me a little.

To the boy that sits alone at lunch and writes, you are more interesting to me than any person at this school. I would choose an enthralling writer over a sports fanatic any day. And I look up to you for having the courage to be yourself.

To the girl with colorful pants and spontaneity in every step, as much as I hate it, I am genuinely happy for you. You remind me of myself a little bit. I know you were jumping around on hotel beds with your best friend that night. So as much as my heart hurts, you make me smile.

To my Canadian seminary teacher, I wish you knew how much you have helped me through when I felt like I couldn't make it.

To Steven Pressfield, thanks. That's all.

To the girl that gets a little teary when she laughs, I'm sorry for making your senior year not as good as you envisioned. I didn't mean to steal your best friend. But she loves you more than you know.

To Eponine, you're not alone, girl.

To my first kiss, thanks for giving me a good example of the way someone should love me. You put most men to shame.

To the college girl, you'll always have a special place in my heart, but as much as we deny it, I think we're drifting. We'll still be grandmas together. Promise. 

To my 10th grade English teacher, I remember the day I told you I was moving away. I got emotional and you told me to never stop using my camera or writing because I was truly talented. I think you were the first one I believed.

To the boy in the halls that asks me how I am, you're too nice and I don't like you. Sorry bud, try being genuine next time.

To that one red head, stop liking shy people. They REALLY aren't for you. You are confident enough to love a confident guy. Trust me. Also you're beautiful and I love you.

To God, I think you know what I'm going to say.

To the music goddess, now I understand why you couldn't get over that jerk for so long. I'm glad you've found someone better.

To Snot College, I hate you so freaking much.

To her, I don't know you well enough to address this letter any other way, but I'm jealous of your talents and you don't know how lucky you are to have him. Please treat him right.

To the Red Devil, you know who she is. We accept the love we think we deserve. 

To Kat Stratford, I don't know who you are but I admire your profanity.

To Eric Mika, I wish you were cooler.

To the biggest smile, I see through your confidence and I don't think you realize how magnificent you are. Also, thanks for calling me brilliant. Getting blog comments is the straight and narrow path to my heart.

To my Mom, your arms are my greatest comfort. Forgive my stormy eyes, but I like the way you wipe my tears away. You believe in my writing more than anyone.

To Imagine Dragons, you make my heart explode. Also, I cry happy tears over you. You're welcome.

To my freckles, never disappear. You're my one beauty.

To senior year, it's been terrible and wonderful and I was wondering if I could ask you one favor? Please slow down.

To my future self, always remember these moments. Keep them in your pocket and let your pocket fill up with memories until it weighs enough to pull your pants down. That's the kind of life you want. 


The more I think the more letters I have so I need to just cut this off or no one will read it.
If you knew every person on this list then you know me pretty well.
If I didn't include you on this, sorry. I probably still like you.