to whom it may concern,

out of clutter, find simplicity. from discord, find harmony. in the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.
that's all i have to say to you. good luck in life.
-brianna.

dear kevin,

do you remember our cowboys and indians party? how we played mao an obscene amount of times before finally getting tired of it? you might remember different things about that night, things i don't remember but that were important to you. or maybe weren't important, just vivid. i have the strangest memories of that night. like how you wore my glasses. and that chocolate santa clause i drew the balls onto. and thinking how easy it was for me to laugh with you. and i was shocked that i ever disliked you. no, i didn't dislike you. i just thought i ultimately would. when i came back home, i wasn't doing well. andrew and micah were good to me and they made me feel better frequently. but you were the real saving grace. i don't know if you're aware, but you have this knack for saying exactly the right thing at exactly the right time. and i completely get your sense of humor. i know i've said all of this before, in your birthday gift. but i'm saying it now because i have a few things to add. this letter is supposed to be written to someone who is on my mind a lot and, right now, that's you. i hate what's happened and i can't help but feel responsible. i would never have meant for this to happen on purpose. you're so important to me. but i know i played a big part in how our friendship is now. i know we still have a friendship. but it's not the same one. it's not as strong as it used to be. i know this distance makes it difficult. but for six months we managed to work it out. i think i just got scared. because you're really leaving soon and i don't know how much i'll get to talk to you. once again, i've managed to prove my stupidity. because i always seem to choose the worst way possible to go about something while thinking that it's the best way. but i can't do this anymore. i miss you. so much. i miss sending you stupid pictures every time i see something that i thought was funny. i miss texting you all the time. i miss being called poopy mcbrocock. actually, no i don't. but i can live with it. i just need you to know that i messed up. and i'm sorry. and i'm going to try to fix this, because i know i'm responsible. i miss you. i love you. i think i told you once that i could tell you 'i love you' every minute and it wouldn't be enough. it's still incredibly true.
i love you. i love you. i love you.
poopy.

dear desire and expectation,

i wish i could write this letter. but i think to do that, i'd have to actually know what i hope to be. and, as my mom so aptly states, i can't just pick one dream. one day i want to go to seattle, and the next i want to work in a movie theater, and the next i want to move to ireland, and then culinary school, and then italy. there's no way i can choose. my dad told me that i'm not going to get a sense of direction until i leave it to the Lord. the worst part of this is that i already knew that. but, for some reason, i'm being proud. and i want to do this on my own. even though i know can't. i know that i wish i could be everything for everyone. but i can't. it literally breaks me when i know someone is upset with me for something. in a way that my family doesn't understand. i feel so alone sometimes. and i really handle it the wrong way. i push people away to save myself the pain of loving them. i'm still learning. i have about a billion more mistakes to make. but at least i'm not numb anymore. at least now when i think of things that would make anyone depressed i can cry a little bit. and when great things happen i'm genuinely happy. i'm not wearing this mask anymore that says, "i'm happy all the time." even though i thought i was. it's strange how we lie to ourselves. i need someone to shake me. honestly. someone should come over here right now and say, "stop it. just be you. stop trying to be what you think you should be." this is tough. i hate it. i hate being so far away from the people i love. and having the world i live in collapse around me. i'm not okay. i need a real friend right now. but i'm struggling to allow it. i guess i just hope that soon i'll let it be.
-brianna.

here's where i rescind.

i'm writing this from a touch phone. it's that important to me. and it is. i won't sleep until i clear this up. boys, i love you. i miss you every day. please re-read my oregon letter. but this time, know that i'm hating on myself. not on you. never on you. these misunderstandings hurt me deeply. please come to me next time you think i'm finished with you. as far as i'm concerned, i'll never be finished. i love you guys. always. please text me on my cousin's phone when you're done with this. i have more to say. i love you.
poopy.

oh lawdy.

i drug test today. let's hope the cocaine is out of my system and i pass that mother f.

dear peter pan,

and harry potter, and wendy, and ron, and hermione, and captain hook, and lord voldemort, and dumbledore. i'm supposed to write to someone from my childhood. since i already wrote to my mom and sister and me and my dad didn't kick it much and mathew was just a baby, i'm going to write to the only other people i knew. this is mainly because i had no friends. and i'm totally okay with that. because i was a well read individual before most of the kids my age could even spell their last names properly. yes, this is me flipping you off. i didn't need stupid monkey bars because i had neverland, and i didn't need club houses because i had hogwarts. while all of you little ankle biters ran around slurping up your own drool and passing herpes around in the third grade, i was actually learning things. it's a marvel, isn't it? and i don't feel badly for any of you. this is what you get for leaving me out and making fun of me. the ironic part is, you made fun of me because i was more intelligent than you. sadly, because i was so young, i didn't realize that you idiots were insulting yourselves. if i could go back in time, i'd be sure to comfort all of you in the thought that gas stations are always hiring. i'm not where i thought i'd be right now, but i'm getting there. my mom told me today that i need to just pick one of my dreams and roll with it. the only problem with that plan is that my dreams change everyday. right now, i want to go to AUR. tomorrow i may not. but whatever happens, happens. i'm sure you can tell the anger in this letter isn't really toward a bunch of third graders. i'm harboring a lot of rage over other things i refuse to talk about here. so it's nice to take it out on those little bitches. i hope it hurts. btw, thanks for helping raise me harry potter and peter pan. it's always a pleasure. to you other bitches, suck a dick.
-b.

modest mouse is the key.

i wish i could forgive you. but i get so angry every time i see you or anyone associated with you. and then i'm back where i was. and i wonder why it's always me apologizing in my dreams when you're the one who fucked up. you're the one who hurt me.