Little Things

A letter

Hey, so, it's been a while. Time hasn't been the nicest to me for the last couple months. I've almost forgotten completely what your face looks like. Not to mention that I can't remember your favorite color (which is funny because I asked you for it a lot), or your favorite episode of Doctor Who. Sometimes I wonder, if those things have changed, if you've moved to the newer episodes. I stopped watching it a while ago; it reminded me a little too much of you and, for a long while, I just couldn't handle it.

Please know that it didn't ever matter what kind of shit you rambled on about for hours, you were always able to make it sound worth-while. I remember that one time that I asked you what your favorite song was and you listed nearly every song you'd ever heard, complete with a summary of it and how it made you feel to hear it. And that time you talked on and on about the weird people you talked to on the internet that week, wishing that I'd been there to see it myself.

Every time you found a subject that you could trail out forever, I knew you were in a good mood. Even if it wasn't a particularly fun topic. If you weren't talking about something random, then something was definitely wrong.

It never mattered what kind of love we shared (or didn't share); Sisterly lover, friendly love, romantic love, etc. All because no matter what kind it felt like, it had never compared to what I'd felt before. You were my first sister. My first love. My first loss. I always knew that if I said the wrong thing, or right thing at the wrong time, you'd tell me the truth about how it made you feel. If it hurt you (which I never did on purpose), if it was embarassing (Which was quite rare between us), or if it was simply spelled incorrectly (which, I'll admit, happened quite a few times).

I remember a certain conversation we had very vividly. We were discussing plans for when one of us was a liscensed driver and trusted to leave state for a few days (or in our dreams, a few weeks). It was probably going to be me; I'm a couple months older. We were going to meet at a park that was local to one of our houses and introduce ourselves to whichever family who's home town we were visiting and perhaps have a nice dinner at "like, In'n'Out or something". Sometimes I still believe that it's possible but other times I don't. It really depends on what I ate for breakfast and how early I ate it. I'm serious.

My Momma is waiting for me to go to bed so that she can as well. She is a little worried about my emotional state tonight because I'm at the peak of my PMS. So, I guess everything else will have to wait until another day (or night, at this rate).

Goodnight, My Dear Friend,
Melody Red

~

So, I found this letter in my stash of weird-ass things I've written and drawn. I honest to God have no memory of writing it, and since it isn't addressed to anyone, I don't have a clear indication of who it was intended for. I have an idea, but I'm unsure.

But, at any rate, I hope you felt some emotions while reading it, because I sure as hell did. I hope you thought of someone. I hope you hated this letter, or loved it, or felt suspicious of it.

Thank you for reading.