Dear No One,
Hi, I guess.
I bet you're wondering;"Who the hell writes letters in the 21st century?" Well...I do.Little old antisocial me. I guess the letters will get better the more I write them, mother says opening up takes time and there's nothing wrong with me but she's wrong.
She has to be I mean, I don't feel like there's something wrong but there has to be.I sit in an uncomfortable,horribly brown chair three hours a week, staring at my therapist whom my mother pays thousands of dollars for me to sit in silence.
I don't talk much, rarely if ever. I like to write.I've went through hundreds of journals with letters that I've written to myself.I overheard mother on the phone yesterday, with the phone held closely to her ear,talk to Dad about what to do with me.
"She needs to talk to someone. Its not healthy. I haven't heard her voice in a year John."
I guess she's right.I need someone to talk to.I chose you, my voiceless epitome of no one. I guess you won't stay voiceless forever though, I'm going to hide these letters beside the vending machine every week because my life's not interesting enough to write every day.
The word count on my computer says that I've written 208 words.That's 208 more words than I've said to anyone in a year.I guess you're special no one.
-The Antisocial , Delusional , soul that kinda feels OK after writing this.
YOU ARE READING
Dear No One:
Teen Fiction"Dear stranger, I found your letters.They're addressed to no one in particular so I felt inquired to read them , I mean they were just sitting there, begging to be read.So I did.And I learned a lot about you through your words and maybe; just maybe...
