Dear Pit,
You know me and you know that I hate feelings and that I would never write a letter to anyone. I know you know because you always know everything when it comes to people. And I know you understand because when you look at me there's a thousand kisses in your eyes. And I hate you for it.
I hate the way you just walk around with your grandpa pants and your flannel shirts and your curls and smiles and dimples. I hate the way you smoke your cigarettes because that's the way I taught you to and I wish it didn't matter to neither of us because we're just friends and friends aren't supposed to notice these things.
I wish you could be like the rest of them. Those boys with flirtatious eyes who never call you unless you ask them to. They put their hands on your hips and forget where your heart is and with every kiss they leave on your lips it's harder to breathe. I wish you could be like them, Pit. But instead of having flirtatious eyes, yours are too innocent and too sincere. And perhaps your kisses are as genuine and tender, but I don't wish to find out.
