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Table of Contents

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Dear You

You looked solemn as I answered the call. “Hello?” my voice wavered, unsure of what to make of your expression. I had never seen you look like that before. You had been sad before, but never this kind of sad. This was the kind of sad that you could see. You could see the pain radiat-ing from your heart and eating you away from the inside out. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Its…us.” You responded. Oh god. The tears were coming, I could feel them fighting against me to fall outside my eyes. It hurt me that I knew you so well. The way you looked away from me, and made eye con-tact for a few seconds gave me all the clues I need-ed. “Your breaking up with me.” I said.

By Carly Button

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So I hung up. I know it’s foolish, but I couldn’t face you. How does a person listen to such beautiful words as that and not break down immediately? So I did. I cried my eyes out, heaving and sobbing into my father’s arms. If this is what breaking up is like, then I never want to date ever again. Albert Einstein says that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I would be insane if I let myself fall in love with you again. But I will. I will be insane every day of my life for the rest of my life if it lets me have you back in my arms. I love, loved, and will always love you.

“I’ve only wanted the best for you. I’m so busy and I hurt you all the time. Why would you, such a beauti-ful girl, choose me? I’m nothing compared to you. You have always deserved better than me. I love you. So much. The best way I can show you that I love you is by letting you go on to be something greater than me. You’ve always been the better one. There’s someone who deserves you. I’m not that guy. I can’t simply be there for you. I love you. This would have been a whole lot worse if we dragged it out. I love you.”

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6Brieanna Sundberg ‘13

A Lost Soul

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Point of View

Kayla Economou ‘13

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Dear Abby, The haunting sound of the wind at night takes me back to that sum-mer. Everything does now. Sometimes I think I see you: in a crowd, at the lake, across the street. I can’t shake the memory of you. That’s what I hate the most—the memories. I remember when we were kids. I remember those sunny days we would spend by the lake, eating pastrami sandwiches and talking about how much we hated school. Sometimes, we would act all fancy and talk in British accents. “Abigail, isn’t this tea simply di-vine?” I would say, as I held up my too-sour lemonade. “Why yes, Penel-ope. Now don’t forget to raise that pinky,” you would reply as we giggled and sipped from your mother’s expensive porcelain teacups. I remember the sleepovers we had and the amazing grilled cheese sandwiches your mom would make us when we came home from school. But they’re not all good memories. I remember storming out of your house after a fight or how I made you cry when I said that you wouldn’t be able to make it on the homecoming committee. “Only the pretty and popular girls make it on the committee. Is that what we are? No, I don’t think so,” I had said, as I watched you slowly cross out your name on the sign up sheet and put away your pen. You had cried when you got home; I know because Sandra Walters, who used to be your neighbor, had told me. I remember being jealous of how wealthy your family was. Every time my mother would try to buy cheap fast food and pass it off as a homemade meal made me think about how you would never have to eat off the dollar menu or share a greasy cheeseburger with your older brother. You were an only child. You never had to share anything; all of my clothes were hand-me-downs. Your parents spoiled you; mine had made me share my room with my four other siblings. Your life had seemed so much better then mine, with your brand name clothes and your diamond earrings.

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There is nothing I remember better then last summer. I hadn’t seen you since we graduated high school and now that we were done with college, we could finally catch up. It had started when you had invited me to go camping with you. It would be just like when we were younger. I met you by the stream on Thursday, my oversized backpack filled with supplies. It was only the two of us; walking along the water, surrounded by the millions of towering trees. We had set up camp in a nearby clearing. Everything was fine. Everything was perfect. And then it all hap-pened. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that they’ll never know what happened to you and that they’ll never find you. I’m sorry that you’ll never be able to read this letter or that I’ll never be able to show it to anyone. I’m sorry that I hadn’t taken my medication that day. I’m sorry that you had to beg for your life as I held the gun firmly to your head. And I’m sorry that you aren’t here anymore. And that it’s all my fault.

Your friend,Penny

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To the sky that smiles

With stars for miles

Or sunlight which you grasp for a touch

Which is just normal to ask for much

When you start off in the dirt

And climb through the earth

You peak out of the ground

And reach with no sound

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But when you finally mature from a spud

The treasures you hold begin to bud

Your flowers smile through your leaves

And it is your turn to return the seeds.

Plants

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There is nothing I remember better then last sum-mer. I hadn’t seen you since we graduated high school and now that we were done with college, we could finally catch up. It had started when you had invited me to go camping with you. It would be just like when we were younger. I met you by the stream on Thursday, my oversized backpack filled with sup-plies. It was only the two of us; walking along the water, surrounded by the millions of towering trees. We had set up camp in a nearby clearing. Everything was fine. Everything was perfect. And then it all

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I’m Sorry

happened. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that they’ll never know what happened to you and that they’ll never find you. I’m sorry that you’ll never be able to read this letter or that I’ll never be able to show it to anyone. I’m sorry that I hadn’t taken my medication that day. I’m sorry that you had to beg for your life as I held the gun firmly to your head. And I’m sorry that you aren’t here anymore. And that it’s all my fault. Your friend,Penny

Kate Uesugi ‘1513

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When Opposites Attract

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Anika Pangelinan ‘15