"If I ever write this letter
the pages I could write
but I don't know where to send it
you have vanished
heaven knows where you live
heaven only knows..."

*****

Dear Michael,

Why am I doing this? I have no intentions of ever actually giving this to you. But I'm all alone and I have no one to talk to, no one to explain this to. So I thought that maybe if I could just pretend that you were sitting here in front of me, I could let it all out. For once, I could have the final word. That's what this is.

Why did you do this? How could you? Have you any idea what you have done? But no, really, it's me. I did this. I fell for you and I knew that I shouldn't. Everything inside of me was warning me, telling me not to trust this feeling. But this feeling, Michael, it's so strong. It's different from anything that I have ever felt. I can't explain or even describe it. It's a feeling when I'm around you that I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid of what I feel or what I think. I'm not afraid of you. That's the big one. Because I'm always afraid of everything. But with you, it's like a peace comes over me and I know that I can't get hurt. Which is stupid, because all you ever do is hurt me. See, I told you, I can't explain it and it doesn't make sense.

*****

"if I ever write this letter
bitter words it would contain
just an unrequited lover
wishing she had never
spoken your name
had never known your name..."

*****

You hurt me. You love me. You are the only person that could do both of those things in one single breath. And I kept trying to make you into someone else, so that I could have only the love and none of the hurt. But you and me, Michael, that's all we are. We are both so bruised and beaten, it's no wonder that our love is full of pain.

I am so angry with you. Why did you do this at all? Why did you take me to Marathon and why did you kiss me in the Crashdown? Why did I let you? Why on earth did I ever look at you and see beyond that strange, creepy guy?

You have no idea how much I wish I were in love with Alex. With anyone, really, except you. But Alex most of all. He's never hurt me, ever. And it doesn't even take an effort on either of our parts, we just are there for each other. But life isn't that simple. Somehow you became a part of my life without my even realizing it until it was too late. And then we were on our way to Marathon and everything changed.

And the sad thing is that if you were standing here in front of me, I would do it all over again. How do you have that power over me? I hate you for that. I hate you because I love you. What sort of a screwed up life do I have to be saying something like that when I'm sixteen?

*****

"but if I ever write this letter
the truth it would reveal
knowing you brought me pleasure
how I'll often treasure
moments that we knew
the precious, the few."

*****

I miss you. I just saw you a few hours ago, and I miss you. How am I going to do this? I miss your eyes. I miss your strange little smile. I miss the feel of your hands in my hair. I miss the taste of your lips against mine. I miss my Michael.

I've got to stop calling you that. You aren't mine, I don't know that you ever were. I wanted you to be mine. I wanted to box you up and protect you from whatever it is that you keep running from. I wanted you to look at me and see your strength. I wanted to be your heart. But just when I think that you need me the most, you run away.

I'm sorry, my Michael. Michael. I'm sorry that I couldn't be that for you. I can only hold onto the memories that we share, and wish that there were more. I don't know how to end this. Not that it matters, you'll never see it. Still, nothing I could say seems adequate.

I love you. It looks so plain, written like that. It's not enough. But it's all I have left. I love you, my Michael.