26| letters to a young poet

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DEAR JESS,

I hope you don't mind, but I told Rory about everything. I spared her the details on the kiss, and I made her promise not to tell Lorelai. She told me to write you this letter, and that she'd give it to you when I send it over, that way I don't mail it to you and risk Luke ending up reading it instead.

     It's concerning that I don't know what to say, considering I based my entire future on writing, but I'll try. I guess I should dive head first and tell you the reason why I never told you the notes on the books were mine. It's hard to muddle it down in one sentence but I'll sum it up for you; I never wanted to fall in love, Jess. I know what comes after falling.

     And the night after you stole the book, when you told me how connected you felt to the annotations, I'll admit that I was a little scared. Okay, a lot scared. That book has been borrowed from me by a lot of people and no one has ever commented on my notes the way you did. I suppose I felt seen, and it scared me.

     Here's another thing I never wanted to admit; I read it again while you were in New York after a long time of avoiding reading your notes on my notes. I felt utterly transparent when I read your notes.  I think that day, I realised you're more myself than I am— and I hate quoting Wuthering Heights as a way to confess that I like you, but it seems fitting enough. I guess that's what I wanted to say, if it wasn't obvious enough to you already, I like you quite a bit.

     Oh, and I read The Remains of the Day. I cried, like you said I would.

    From,
Rosie.

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