Epistula I

Fabricated letters that, in reality, would never reach the addressees.

Good afternoon.

Okay, I really don't know what to do with myself anymore.

Please say something. I can't stand not knowing what to think.

I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I don't know what you want to hear, because you won't talk to me. Not even when I approach you in school.

Okay, scratch that. I understand why you won't talk to me in school. All of my friends start giggling and pointing at you, and you don't like that. If you want me to, I'll tell them to stop. I'll stop hanging out with them, okay? Just please talk to me.

Is it because I giggled? It's because I giggled, isn't it? I kissed you and when I let go, I giggled. Okay. Great, I can see why you'd hate that. But I didn't mean it in a bad way. I was happy, I swear I didn't mean to hurt you by giggling. I really really really didn't.

The truth is, you don't need to feel insecure. I honestly think you're beautiful and very special and I'm surprised that I was the first guy to ever kiss those pretty, small, red lips of yours, the first guy to ever hug you and hold you close.

And then I giggled. Your surprised face flushed with fear and anger and you pushed me away and ran. Since then you've been ignoring me.

I really don't know what to tell you, what to promise, to make you understand that I am genuinely sorry I giggled.

I think I love you.

Yours truly

The End

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