TATBILB [Parody] || Osterfield & Holland

:O⃣n⃣e⃣:

C⃣h⃣a⃣p⃣t⃣e⃣r⃣     O⃣n⃣e⃣

My room has become the bane of my existence. Ever since I was little I gave meaning to nonsensical things. Every book. Every article of clothing. Every picture. Everything became a collectors item to me, because I couldn't bear to part with anything. So now my room was an entirely cluttered mess with 'sentimental' junk.

Dad was always on me about cleaning my room. And this afternoon he came into my room, with a cardboard box for Goodwill, promising that if I don't fill the box he will drop me off at college just to embarrass me. That is, if I go to college at all. Regardless, I wasn't taking any chances.

So now here I was, cleaning out this landfill.

I make a noise out of disgust as I picked up an old pair of dirty socks. "Wash, not donate." My nose scrunches up. I toss into the 'wash' pile that was growing exponentially.

It had been three hours, and I have barely half the box filled. Exhausted, I sit down in my closet. The floor was covered in stuff that I knew I didn't need but didn't want to give away. A huff of air escapes my lips. I slam my back against the wall out of frustration. The shelf above me shakes and a box falls onto my legs. Its contents scattering at my feet.

"Ow," I whimper as I rub my legs.

Finally I get a better look at the box. Its familiar teal/blue color and bow catching my attention. My hands rest on my knees. Immediately I knew what were right at my toes; my love letters.

No, these weren't letters I had received from other people. I wish.

Just because everything else in my life was a mess, didn't mean that my love life was. Or more so, lack there of.

I've never had a boyfriend or been in a relationship before, but I have had a few crushes and loves in my life. And when my feelings got so intense for someone I would write that person a love letter. It was a way to pour out my emotions without actually confronting the person. That would be terrifying.

My legs swing around and I reach out to pick up each envelope. I read the names off the front of each cream colored packet. Doodles and designs scattered across the papers.

Sam Holland

Harrison Osterfield

Jacob Batalon

Thomas Holland

Harry Holland

"Sweetie?" Dad asks, I hear him enter my room. I quickly put all the letters back in the box and shove it under some clothes. Everything will be fine as long as nobody reads them.

"Yeah, Dad?" I stand up to exit my closet.  I try to keep my cool, acting like I wasn't just looking at my most secretive possessions that could singlehandedly ruin my life.

"Remember, you have work tomorrow," he says leaning on the doorframe, "I can't drive you so you'll have to drive yourself."

Uh oh.

"Okay. It's getting late, so I think I'm just going to go to bed." I love Dad but sometimes I need time alone.

Dad stands up straighter and backs up a bit. "Alright. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Dad!" I yell after him as he walks away.

I had the lights off and I was laying in bed. I couldn't fall asleep. After several minutes of tossing and turning a thought came to mind. I threw the covers off of me. Placing my feet on the floor, making my way to the teal box. I open the lid and pull out Harry's letter.

Sometimes I like to reread my letters to remind me about how powerful my emotions could be.

My eyes skim over the words. A small smile playing at my lips. Once I finish reading it, I put it back in the box and place it back on the high shelf. I stare at it for a moment. No one will find it there. I sat myself down on my bed again. This time looking out the window.

His light was still on.