letters to joshua (bxb) ✓

i

joshua, 

it's been a while. just kidding, it really hasn't. i guess it's been a while since i sent you an actual letter, but you probably won't be pleased to know i've been writing to you every day. i think i use these letters as an escape, as if there's something better on the other side. as if a life where you would read my letters is a blissful paradise that i can't wait to escape to. speaking of, i don't even know if you opened my last letter. i know you requested for me not to write, but i couldn't help myself. 

how are you and jennifer? i'm sorry for asking, but i've always wondered why a high school senior would ever move in with his high school girlfriend. usually that's like a college move, so i'm confused as to why you're doing this so early. not like it's any of my business, of course. 

i told mother about you, well about you and her. jennifer. i had to refresh her on who you were and why i was talking about you because she doesn't seem to remember or care about my life at all. 

i told her about how we met at summer camp last summer, how we spent every day canoeing and hiking and biking and doing those stupid box braid lanyards that are a requirement of being at camp (speaking of, i can't believe that camp even has a requirement for lanyard braiding. that's, like, absurd). i told her about how you were my first genuine friend--not a tutor or a classmate that i was paired with for a project in school, a genuine friend.

she was not impressed to be reminded of you.

mother said jennifer sounded "nice," but we all know that's her way of saying "i don't care." she hasn't seemed to care about me or anything much lately.

i'm graduating in a few months, but you know that already. thanks for the heads up about showing up at my school the first day of senior year. really cool of you, joshua.

i want to catch you up on what's been going on with me. it's been a whirlwind actually, with some big ucla alum scouting my painting at a local art show. i didn't even know mother had submitted my art until i asked her why one of my favourite pieces went missing. i always thought she stopped caring about me because i reminded her too much of dad, or because i was too much of a disappointment to look at. turns out, she just stopped caring about me until i had something to make her proud to be my mother again. 

 anyways, an alum from ucla came to the show when that painting was up and saw my work. apparently she wanted to see the artist after reading the little blurb they write and stick beside the paintings. the write up said that i'd only been painting for a month or so (that's mom for you, she loves to exaggerate) even though i'd been dabbling in art my entire life--i just started getting serious a few months ago. the alum, rachel, told me i had raw talent, and ucla, her alma mater, would be interested in a student like me. 

she put me in touch with the admissions office and the art teacher at ucla. 

i had to tell the admissions office about the financial situation which felt so awkward. i mean, how can you tell a complete stranger that you're broke because your dying father used all of the rainy day savings for chemo treatments? 

rachel told me she would call her people and see what they could do. two days later, i got a letter in the mail for a full scholarship. i don't know rachel that well but it feels good to have someone rooting for me. this really takes the burden off my mother for paying for tuition, and i'm just glad i could be that person to give her relief. she's been working non stop ever since dad died.

not that you care, you're probably too busy sucking jennifers face off to read these letters anyway. i've always thought there was something about jennifer that was special, she doesn't seem like one of your usual girls. she's definitely better than beatrice, and loads better than teresa. i'm not keeping tabs, i let go of the idea of us a long time ago. 

sorry my writing's a little shaky, the clock just struck 9:32. mother thinks it's a good idea to have a wall dedicated to dad. she has photos taped up on the wall surrounding custom art of the last words he ever spoke to her. i know it's hard and i know people grieve in different ways, but it's so hard to walk past that wall and hear that clock sound at 9:32. 

9:32. i don't think i ever told you the significance of that number. on july 14th, at 9:32 in the morning, my father took his last breath. so every month on the 14th, the little clock on my father's wall shrine rings. it reminds us that one more month has passed without him, and that we're lucky to be living. it's the five-month mark, and it's been so, so hard without him. when books say little boys gravitate towards their fathers, i laughed at it. but it's true. 

i was only ever allowed to be myself with my father. 

he understood that i didn't want to play baseball or football, that all i ever wanted to do was be myself. and he let me do that. when i lost my father, i lost the person in my life who would love me unconditionally. who let me be me. hence why i have his quote on my wall: "if you want something, want it unapologetically." i don't know in what context this is referring to, but i love it. it reminds me to be me, no matter what other people think of me. 

and i guess this would happen eventually, but this story brings us to summer camp. i guess i didn't really explain why i gravitated towards you, even after you embarrassed me time and time again. i think maybe it's because you took a different form of the quote: you were you, unapologetically. 

you came out to your friends on the second day during lunch. i guess "friends" is the wrong word, because you were friends with everyone that summer. 

let me rephrase. you came out to the entire summer camp on the second day during lunch. 

you stood up on the table, spread your arms out like you were jesus being crucified, and yelled "i'm gay." then you grinned and sat down like nothing had happened. i don't think i've ever been so jealous and attracted to someone in my life. 

it's you, the way you were unapologetically yourself that summer, that made me want to come back for more. which is why i was confused when you hid that part of yourself when you transferred schools. i've always wondered why you were so comfortable in your own skin at camp, but not at school. what changed?

after the rooftop conversation, the final one, i had an unexplainable attraction to you. not in the "i-get-a-boner-every-time-i-see-you" way, but in the "you-have-a-beautiful-soul" way. you were the first person i opened up to about dad, about my family life, about everything. you listened. to this day, i have not found a better listener than joshua sykes. 

i guess that's enough for now. seriously, this letter is getting too lengthy and sappy. i want to burn this, to burn the memory of my dad's passing. i wish he was still alive, i wish i could still be me in this house.

if you even open this, please, write to me about jennifer. write to me about your senior year experience, and why the hell you moved to bay city without telling me. i want to know. i need to know.

ash