Just Lil' Ole Boring Me

Listening to: Paramore

Continuing on with my letter-writing...

Dear N,

         I don't really know where to start. I know that you don't really want to talk to me anymore, so I am putting my feelings down in a letter. Last year was a confusing time for me, I didn't know where I had been or where I was going, and I am sorry that you came in at the wrong time. You were seriously the first guy that paid any attention to me, and I sort of freaked out at the prospect of being in a relationship. I didn't want to be labelled as being "in a relationship," because I was still trying to find out who I was. Truthfully, I am still in the process of doing this. What I really wanted was a friend, someone who would be there for me, but wouldn't be expecting anything more than that. I suppose that I should have stopped everything sooner, before things got out of hand, but I will admit that I liked the fact that someone was thinking about me. I have to be honest here,though, you made me feel like I wasn't capable of being by myself. I mean, you were EVERYWHERE. I couldn't just walk to my car by myself, you had to be walking right next to me. I couldn't go to the library to study by myself, you had to come with me and then proceed to furtively stare at me (don't think that I didn't notice). I didn't like how SUFFOCATED I felt whenever I was with you, or for that matter when I wasn't. Calling me three times in a row, after getting my voice-mail,probably means that I'm not by my phone, it doesn't necessarily mean that I "avoiding" you. Ambushing me as I'm leaving work...also not a good idea. Coming to my house, without an invitation....again, not a good impression. I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but going to the movies a few times doesn't necessarily constitute a serious relationship. I still want to be friends with you, I think you are a pretty cool guy and we have a lot of common interests (remember Nosferatu?), but I am not going to fit into this constricting ideal of what a "good girlfriend" should be. I can hang out with my friends by myself, I can stay home on a Friday night by myself, I can walk to my classes by myself, and I can drive myself places! I know you think that you are just following the age-old customs of chivalry, but it gets old after a while. I hope that one day you will understand this, and why I told you I didn't like you in THAT way.

                                     ~K

Listening to: Senses Fail

I have been wanting to say this for such a long time....

Dear Mr. Gaw,

        I am sure that you don't even remember me, so let me refresh your memory. I was in your 5th period American History class about seven or eight years ago at _____ Middle School. I am sure that the old addage about the student remembering the teacher long after they left the classroom is true, because I have never forgotten you. You, the teacher who perhaps affected me the most, have never left my memory. Do you remember, yet? No? Well, perhaps you remember humiliating me in front of the entire class. You screamed at me for my grand offence of not asking enough questions about the chapter. You called me a "waste of space." You made me stand up in front of everybody and read aloud from the passage, and then would not let me sit down until enough people participated in the class discussion. I get it, you were trying to make a point. Well done, sir. You picked out the weakest of the herd and went in for the kill....all to prove your stupid point about class participation. I was the short, chubby girl with thick glasses and braces. I really had nothing much going for me, except for the belief that a least the teachers would be kind to me. I had good grades, I didn't talk out of turn, I followed directions...I did everything that was expected of me. So, I suppose you thought that you would help me get over my shyness by having me talk in front of the class? Perhaps in your sick and twisted way, you thought this would be beneficial to me? All that did was make me go further into my shell. Did it not occur to you that once I left the classroom, I became "that girl that cried in class?" Oh, yes...don't you remember how you made me cry? Do you have any idea what kind of fodder that creates in the land of teenagers? I became even more of an outcast, enduring the stupid smirks on my classmates faces or the occaasional sympathetic look that made my face burn even more in shame. So, dear Mr. Gaw, I am sure you are wondering why I am writing this to you, and now that we are all caught up I am going to tell you. I have been holding this in for so many years, and this is something that my 13-year-old self would never have dared to say in your presence. Mr Gaw, on behalf of all young 8th graders that you belittled, defamed, and humilated: FUCK YOU,YOU MISERABLE OLD BASTARD! I HOPE SOMEONE PUNCHES YOU IN THE FACE! and now my 20-year-old self is going to add: I AM NOW A FUCKING HISTORY MAJOR IN COLLEGE, I'VE MADE THE DEAN'S LIST EVERY SEMESTER AND BEEN AWARDED SEVERAL ACADEMIC AWARDS, YOU BIG JACK-ASS!! TRY CALLING ME A "WASTE OF SPACE" NOW! Have you not heard the expression that "the meek shall inherit the earth?" Did you think that your bully tactics would impress anyone? All that it did was make me question my own self-worth at a time when I was already feeling out of place. So, forgive me for sounding childish when I say I Hate You, and will forever hate you. It shall be a loathing that has no bounds and will remain in me for a lifetime. 

I just thought you should know how I feel

                                  Sincerely,

                                                 K

P.S. I just recently heard that you are retiring, good luck with that. I am sure that there is many a kid breathing a sigh of relief at this news.