October 19th, 1999

I saw a girl today with your hair. I almost ran after her. My brain knows better, but my heart’s still an idiot.

— Blake

November 14th, 1999

Dear B,

You probably hate me if you read this.

Or worse, you don’t feel anything at all.

I think that scares me the most. That I’ve become forgettable. That I’ve faded from you like the sunburns we used to get on the porch.

January 1st, 2000

Happy New Year, B.

The first one without you.

I watched the fireworks from the roof of my dorm and imagined your fingers laced with mine. I imagined saying sorry in a thousand ways, and none of them felt like enough. Maybe that’s what regret is… Knowing the words exist but not knowing how to make them reach the person you broke.

I hope you danced somewhere tonight. I hope someone looked at you like I used to. I hope you smiled. But I hope it wasn’t because of someone else. I hope it was just you, choosing to live.

Even without me.

January 2nd, 2000

I’ve been listening to Always Be My Sunshine on repeat. Every night. Like a masochist. Thought you should know.

January 3rd, 2000

I wrote your name in Arabic today.

It looked beautiful.

January 17th, 2000

Dear Beverly,

I miss our stupid fights. I miss taking polaroids of you.

I’d give anything for you to roll your eyes at me again.

Or call me a know-it-all. Or throw a pillow at my face.

February 10th, 2000

Happy birthday, B.

I hope someone brings you cake.

I hope you’re laughing.

And if you’re crying, I hope someone’s holding you.

Please be okay.

— Blake

February 22nd, 2000

I got a therapist. She has a plant named Diane.

I thought you’d laugh at that. I do. Sometimes.

March 3th, 2000

Do you hate me? It’s okay if you do.

I just need to know.

Because I don’t hate you.

I couldn’t if I tried.

You’re my heart walking around.

March 19th, 2000

I thought about calling you today. I even dialed the first six numbers. But then I remembered that you probably wouldn’t pick up. Or worse… you would, and you wouldn’t sound happy to hear my voice. So I hung up. I’m sorry.

April 5th, 2000

Dear Beverly,

You once said I was your hobby.

I didn’t understand then. Now I do.

I miss being your favorite thing to pay attention to.

Please write back. Just once.

June 2nd, 2000

I made your favorite pasta tonight. Burned the garlic.

Nearly set off the smoke alarm.

The kitchen still smells like regret.

I wish you were here to tease me for it.

July 10th, 2000

I started building something. A website.

A version of me that might deserve you.

August 8th, 2000

Dear B,

I miss you. I don’t know where you are or if you want to hear from me. But I keep writing these like you do. Because pretending you’ll read them is better than pretending you’re gone. I love you, and I hope you’re safe.

I hope you’re warm. I hope you don’t hate me.

August 15th, 2000

I saw another girl with hair like yours at the mall today. She smiled at someone, and I almost smiled back before I realized it wasn’t you. It ruined my whole day.

How can someone still ruin your day when they haven’t spoken to you in a year? I’d give anything to ruin yours. Just so I knew I still existed in it.

August 23th, 2000

I bought a building today. A dance studio.

I don’t know why I did it.

That’s a lie. I do. I did it for you.

It’s waiting. Just like me.

— Always, Blake

August 27th, 2000

I dreamt of you again. You were dancing in the rain.

When I tried to join you, you disappeared.

I woke up crying.

Please write back, B.

Please.

September 3rd, 2000

I made a mixtape I’ll never send you.

Each track brings me back to the sound of your laugh, the one you made when you forgot to care who was watching. I can still hear it sometimes. I think I made it up. I hope I didn’t.