Angry dipper

LoganW

United States

Logan Weisberg is on the younger side of 'writerhood', being only fifteen years old. Nevertheless, he has been writing for most of his life. Writing is something he would like to be taken seriously in, and he will continue to pursue it.

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Emily Wellington is Going Away

November 25, 2018


Dear Diary,                                                                November 2
We used to pretend we were lovers. Emily and I. I guess that’s kind of obvious. But I’ve just never put it into words before. It’s true, though. We laughed together. We cried together. We never kissed, but since when was that a requirement? I don’t really know. It’s hard to explain.
Emily Wellington was the best person I’ve ever met, probably. Definitely. I met her in 2econd grade. I think we kind of became friends because neither of us had any friends at the time. I don’t know if there was really a reason we didn’t have friends, but if there was, it was a reason we had in common. After we became friends, though, things got so much easier. So much better.
Later in school, when everybody was hooking up and kissing and stuff, it was still just us. We were friends. And then we were lovers, I think. We never talked about what kind of relationship we had. It wasn’t one that we had seen or movies or books or anything. It was different and special and ours. One day I asked if I was her BFF, and she said yes. So I was her Best Friend Forever. And also kind of her Boy-Friend Forever. Kind of.
Nothing changed between us throughout school. Everybody around us broke up and joined cliques and rose to fame and disappeared. But not us. Until now, I guess.
Emily Wellington is going away.
And now things are changing. I don’t really know what to
 
 

Dear Mom
November 10th
I decided to stop going to school. Emily Wellington is leaving, and I want to spend as much time with her as I can while she is still here. Dad says it is okay, and I will get over it eventually. I’ll email my teachers about it.
Last night, Dad had a serious conversation after dinner. I had finished eating, but he told me to stay at the table because there was something he wanted to tell me. He said he wanted to talk about growing up. He said that everyone has things in their life that may seem painful at the moment. He was referring to Emily, but he didn’t say her name. He said that these things are simple scars. They hurt, and they leave a mark, but if we were never scarred, we would all look the same. These simple scars make us special. They make us who we are. That’s what he said. I’m not sure if he’s right about it. It definitely hurts. Emily leaving. I wonder if she’s going to your town. I think she might be.
It feels weird to be so confused. Nothing is for sure anymore. I don’t know when I’m going back to school. I’m not sure when Emily will leave. I don’t know when the pain and confusion will end.
I hate to send you sad letters. I won’t send one again. This is the last sad letter I’ll send to you.
                                                                                                                                                       love, your son
 

 
Mon 11/13/2017 7:34 AM
To: KBrawson@Davenporths.net
CC:
Subject: Absent
 
     Hello Mr. Brawson.  I will be absent from school.  My best friend is leaving soon.  She is absent too.  She probably told you that already.  Or her mom.  Anyway I just wanted to tell you that I would not be at school because I am spending time with my friend while she is still here.  I do not know the exact date she is leaving so I do not know how long I will be gone.  I will come back to school when she goes away.  My dad is okay with me missing school.  I will try to do the hw for the class if you send it to me
 


Mrs. Wellington                                                                                                         Friday Nov. 17
329 Pineknoll St.
Davenport, IA 52804
United States of America
 
To, Mrs. Wellington
 
I know I have never written a letter to you before, but I thought I should after what happened. You probably don’t know this, but two weeks ago, I wrote something about Emily. Of course you wouldn’t know that. I wrote it in my diary. I realized I never really finished it, but it was supposed to be sort of like a reflection on our past, I guess. I thought I could summarize everything so that I could look at the one piece of paper and come to terms with what I’m leaving behind. What she left behind. What isn’t there anymore.
But now that I look back at what I wrote, I don’t see your daughter. I don’t see anything really. Just words. I can’t hold her back with my words. She is so much more than words. Especially my words.
But there is something I wanted to share with you. It’s kind of awkward, but since I don’t think I’ll ever be seeing you in person again, I think I can write this to you.  I wanted to tell you about the time that I almost kissed Emily.
She was in the woods one Saturday. She was taking pictures of animals with one of the waterproof Polaroids you bought for the snorkeling trip that didn’t pan out. I was riding my bike through a beaten path, pretending I was riding a dirt bike. It was just a regular bike, and I crashed into a tree. Emily found me on the ground. She helped me up and pulled my bike out of the dirt, but the tire was busted. So we walked my bike back through the woods together, talking about school and our parents. She said so many nice things about you. It made me ashamed that I didn’t think the same things about my parents.
Eventually we stopped at the edge of the woods. She was going to head back to her house, and me to mine. Before we left the woods, she mentioned making another friend. A boy she was working on a project with. I guess I was jealous. I asked her if I was still her friend. She said I would always be her best friend. Forever. And I wanted to kiss her. And I think she would have let me. But I didn’t.
I like that story. I don’t know if it means anything to you. I don’t know if anything in this letter means anything to you. You don’t have to respond. I’m kind of used to not getting responses.
Anyways. I guess my teachers will expect me to come back to school on Monday. I won’t. It’s too soon, and I’m still hurting. I think everyone is. We all miss your daughter.
                                                                                               Sincerely,
                                                                                                           your daughter’s friend
 


Dear Emily
I don’t know what to say. It’s complicated. Like writing letters to my mom. It’s actually pretty similar, now that I think of it.
After the weeks I spent next to your bed in the Davenport hospital, simply looking at you (sometimes crying a little bit), I finally feel like I’m talking to you. One way or another.
I sent a letter to your mom. I told her about that time where I crashed my bike in the woods. I wanted to kiss you that day. But as you know, I didn’t. Did you want to kiss me too? Did the thought ever cross your mind?
Well, I did kiss you. It took me a while, and a lot more than that, but I did. For two weeks, I sat next to you in the hospital. Your mom would cry, and I would join her, and she would kiss you on the forehead, numerous times, every day. And then one day she left early. And it was just me and you. And I kissed you on the cheek. Did you feel it? Did it mean anything to you? It meant a lot to me. It was my goodnight kiss. The one I didn’t give that evening in the woods, before you left.
Were you waiting for a kiss goodnight? Because the day after I gave you one, you left. And now you are gone.
And I cried and said it wasn’t fair and that I wanted to go with you. And I will go after you, one day. In the meantime, I have one request. Keep my mom company. Tell her that I’m looking forward to seeing her. To seeing both of you. Until then, I guess.
My dad says that this is just a time in my life. An experience. And it might leave a scar. But he said that those scars shape us into the people we become. And I feel it. I feel myself changing, becoming something new. Things are beginning to clear up. And as they become clear, one thing is for certain.
Part of me will never move on. Part of me will, and I already feel that part moving on. But part of me will always stay in this moment, feeling the same pain and loss that I feel now. Every part of me will miss you, though. Always. Until I see you again. And when I do, I hope there will be someone left behind to miss me.
 
Well… Goodnight. I look forward to the day that I wake up to see you.
 
                                                                                                                your Best Friend Forever
 

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