Wake Me Up

When September Ends.


Dear Danny,


Hey. How's it going? 
Guess what? You've now had my Harry Potter book in your possession for over two weeks. Incidentally, that's how long it's been since we've hung out. I'm assuming that you don't want to hang out anymore, and that I'll take a hint and just leave you alone. That's cool.
Actually it's not cool at all, seeing as how I really like you a lot and if you ended it like this I'd be devastated. But, you know. I can't force you to like me. I'd just appreciate it if you'd tell me that you don't like me and never want to see me again.


In the meantime, I'll work on fulfilling your three genie wishes. Number one, a hot girlfriend who's also low-maintenance. I'm trying not to talk to you much so you don't need to worry about 'maintaining' anything. I'm as low maintenance as a Thunderbird but I'll be your Honda anyday. Anyway, I'm already pretty hot, but I'm trying to exercise and not eat so much so I'll be marginally more beautiful than usual, just for you. And my hair's getting really long, and it's curly in the perfect way like Taylor Swift, and it's even brighter blonde from all the summer sun I've been soaking up. And my eyes are especially blue for some reason. Wouldn't you like to see them? I bet.
For your birthday I'm going to fill your locker with Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal boxes, since that was another of your genie wishes.
The third wish was for a '65 Shelby GT Mustang. I checked it out and those run up to 70k. I don't have that kind of money but ONE DAY we'll get married and be super rich and we'll get you that car. I'm going to try to find like a miniature model of one online somewhere. If we stay together, that is.


This is pathetic. 
I hope you never read this letter.


Like,
Jessie