Diana Kurniawan

Author's Note:

 

No part of these letters were guided nor conciliatory of Saturday Night Live and their staff. All parodies, views, and opinions of these letters were works of fiction and intended to be comical parodies, skewed with sarcasm, and a hint of bitterness. These letters were in no part meant to insult nor harm Late Night of Seth Meyers, Saturday Night Life, Seth Meyers (the icon himself), Seth's family and friends, and the staff and writers of those shows. Trigger warning for some parts due to content written on these pages were reflective of violence prevention and sexual assault, geared towards adults, survivors of violence and those who would be perceptive to it. As an ending note, please read without judgement and with respect towards those who experienced violence and other issues entailed in these letters. Thank you.

 

 

 

 

February 14, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Why write to Seth Meyers?

 

Of all the souls in the world, I felt I knew you, Sethy. Presumably you would read this, but for now, it will be etched inside the pages of this diary. High school felt like a scar on my face, embarrassing, and irritating for me. Although I was a pupil, but I was never the crowd. Teachers talked at me, because of my boredom and lack of enthusiasm. Their voice had a ball and chain attached to every syllable, and I ignored them, as I ignored every adult in my house. Well….there was only one left.

 

My Dad lacked responsibility and my mother was long gone. She took her baggage to a more handsome man she met at the laundrette. So, Dad bought a set of washing machine and dryer because he didn't want me to run out on him too.

 

My life as a teen felt ominous since the day Mom left us, just a few years back. Sometimes, I felt sad and alone, and I wondered if you would condemn me for writing these love letters to you.

 

I would never send these, at least not to the Rockefeller Building where you work, next to that white tower of Grace. I saw online that no letters or parcels were allowed inside the building, no matter who it was addressed to. Screwed up law, if you wanted my opinion.

 

Just a precaution, condemnation leads to sorrows and those viruses won't bear fruit, but would lead to painful lives. If I were to send these one day, please don't be sad for me or for these series of love letters. And please don't give me a restraining order, because I wrote these letters for my relief, of the unspoken love I had for you. I was some random underage teen in the burbs of Jersey, your favorite, but you were a better choice than Jack who screwed me over last year.

 
Jack was the depressive opposite, no pun intended. Please don't make fun of me! He lived in Cherry Hills, and from an upper middle class, that meant a hundred grand more than what my fragile father earned from his graveyard shift. He worked at Target, as the stocker with a man named Sam, who would come over with a brown bag of vodka. They would drink themselves to sleep, because their ladies (my Mom, and his wife) left them. I was the idiot daughter who couldn't stay awake in class because I worked at T-Bell after school, and it damned paid the bills.

 

My life was lackluster of fun and merriment, because it was full of scrap metal of divorce and abandonment.  In case you were wondering what was the 'real' reason for my love letters, it would be really up to you to decipher. I won't judge, as long as you won't do it to me.

 

From watching your show and just loving you, I felt joy in this world and love came after the whole rain of tears was done and over with. I was always alone on Saturday Nights, and Dad didn't care. Jack hated me and called me a 'pauper' in front of his friends. I knew better than to be there for self-pity.

 

Perhaps these love letters may mean nothing to you, because you have a million dollars and a hot girlfriend. But, these words were true, and you gave me joy, even for a short moment on Saturday Nights.

 

So yeah, this was why I wrote to you, and because I just loved loving you…

 
 
Loving Seth Meyers,

WishesOoohWishes (aka. Mary).

 

 

 

February 16, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Sam and Dad never took a shower this morning. They slumped on the couch, and slept like babies since Valentine's Day. I washed the laundry and the dishes, and Sethy, you would be so proud to know that I made lasagna all by myself for lunch. I got it out of a box, but it was still lasagna. Dad had all these boxed lunches and dinners, and those were all there were in the fridge.

 

"Get up, it's morning, Dad," I said to him, shoving his elbow into the couch from hanging over the side arm. His lips smacked and his tongue licked the side of his mouth. Then, he went back to sleep.

 

"Sam, get up!" I practically screamed into his ears. He turned his shoulders to face the other side of the grey cotton recliner. His eyes were tight with protein smeared on the corner of his eyelids. Nose hairs protruded from his nostrils and he sniffed in. He was a tough old man, and my Dad's best pal, but he looked gross.

 

Dad and Sam were two grouchy old men, and more likely, they met some bad people in their lives that made them like this. Dad's name was Bob, and his name backwards was Bob. He said he loved his name because it was friendly, but all he did was sleep and drink, and rarely spoke to me.

 

I didn't know how to describe him to you, Sethy. I wish he was a Jewish pediatrician, with an upper-class Jewish background, and a confident and sweet demeanor. But, he was not. He was my Dad.

 
Sethy, did you have someone you love, but you never knew if they ever loved you in the first place? You probably didn't because the whole world was at your feet, and they listened to you, especially when you hosted the Weekend Update with your co-anchor, Tina Fey and Amy Poehler.

 

I wished I could talk to you, about everything. Especially our Dads, because mine was invisible, although he was here with me. 

 

100% in attention of you,

WishesOoohWishes (Or you can call me Mary if you want).

 

 

February 17, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I felt so pretty, and I had a Diet Coke moment at 2:00 a.m. on a Wednesday. It was two days before Saturday, and I think heaven was smiling down on me.

 

It might be deep and dark at night, like the abyss, but at this moment, it was all about love, in the wee hours of the morning!

 

I was forever into you, Seth Meyers, and I didn't mind it, at all. I asked God all the time, "Do you think Seth Meyers knows me, even in telepathy?"

 

I thought the Diet Coke spoke in bubbles and shouted, "Yes, Seth Meyers does know you!"

 

Seth, I expected you to read with the eyes of love, for every single page of this letter.

Every page was of truth, and I typed each word with the most loving thoughts in my heart.

I was on adrenaline love, circulating in my blood at this time. You would be proud that I even had a goal, to train for life for every dream I wished and hoped for, because I had love through you.

 

Yes, this was so real to me, and it was NOT CRAZY or DEPRESSIVE at all!

Besides, these letters were in the secret safe under my bed at this time, in the pages of my diary, so you won't have anything to worry about. ?

 

I believed love was so near to my life, and I wished for you, Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live to meet me, when you could and you would. I loved being in this state of mind, when every word I wrote on each page were tender and real. I was so happy for me, and I was so in love with you. I believed, there was nothing wrong with professing how much you admired and loved a star, especially from someone like me. I had no one, and Dad was always at work and high school was full of Jackasses.

 

I only got excited about lunch at school. I had a lot of opinions about it, and it wasn't just about veggie pizza, it was more about steak and lots of peppers. My opinions were all about love, full of flavors, and the ardent tastes of life. For instance, don't you think every high school, or even middle school, should come with a food bank for less unfortunate kids like me? So, in case we didn't have food at home, we could shop for free for veggies and even meat and chicken at the food bank? But, that was probably too stupid for people to understand how bored I was with boxed lasagnas.

 

I needed to tell you something else, Sethy. Today, Jack asked me if I want to go out to the movies and do our 'thing.' It meant making out while he fingered me. It was the in thing to do at school, but I didn't feel like it. Dad didn't care, but I just didn't want to get in trouble with the movie attendant. We got kicked out once, a year ago, and it was just for putting our feet on the chairs in front of us.

 

Okay, yes, there was another time when Jack and I made out near the bathroom and we went inside the stalls and got caught. I didn't want to do that again. My pants were so tight that I had to pull it back up like a pair of jeggings. Jack just put on his hoodie and walked out without me. He looked back to me, and said, "if you tell anyone, you're a slut!"

 

But, don't worry, my feeling right now was all about you, and IT WAS REAL. I wasn't the type who would make superficial love. Sethy, I was not afraid of loving you, and I was not afraid if people could read my love letters to you. Why should I? Just because I was miles away, didn't imply that I would ever need to repress my emotions at all. Until tomorrow, love me.

 

Adrenaline love,

WishesOoohWishes (Okay, don't tell anyone I'm Mary or I'll never SNL again!)

 

 

 

February 18, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Some people were meant to be soldiers, and some were survivors, fighting the same war, one day at a time.

Sethy, I was a bit of both.

 

I was sure you won't really care when it came to fan-ship. I thought of how you loved us all the same, and reserved the most unconditional love for your Jersey babies. But, some people were too scary to even speak about. Like Jack, and our relationship for instance.

 

I wished I never met Jack under the circumstances of high school and teen angst, but a perfect environment was somewhat an illusion nowadays for everyone at any age. I didn't know if anything changed for the better, because he said to his friends that I slept with him behind the bleachers three days ago. But, I never did that. I swear to God! I was a virgin! Perhaps Jack was testing me, but I was traumatized.

 
I confronted him after English, and all of the boring world history of the universe. I wanted some clarification. He said he wants to get together so I could prove my love to him. He said that he wasn't sure if I loved him, unless I sleep with him.

 

What do you think, Sethy? I wished you are here. Dad was still at work, and it was only 9 pm. He goes to work from 6 pm to 6 am, four days of the week. He sleeps during the day when I was at school, then later after school I work at T-Bell till about this time, so I won't see him at all. I wished Dad could tell me what he thought about all this.

 

It didn't matter, because in a day, you will be on SNL, and I would just watch your Weekend Update and feel the vibes through the television, and I would get my answers that way. I swear it, one Saturday night, I felt your vibes so strong, I almost convulsed through time and space. You had your shirt off on Weekend Update and then on top of that, Kristen Wigg was the Target Lady at another re-run and I saw you were on that sketch, and I was like, "Oh my gawd. He's like family!" And I felt you told me a secret that you actually LOVED New Jersey and especially girls like me with black hair and dark brown eyes. So, that was one special night for me.

 

Anyhow, about Jack, he has a friend, William, who told me, "You shouldn't do it, because it won't work," and this scary tactic of his friend who talked about "discouraging motivation" or "barriers to my proof of love," may not be his true friend. William said that it was "the flesh" and the devil was playing tricks with Jack and me, but the truth was…Jack and I wanted to do it, all the time, and it has been hard for me to resist.

 

I let him put his hands on my breasts and I loved kissing him with his hand down my pants. I wasn't sure if I was suppose to do it at this age, but I liked Jack a lot, although he was an asshole sometimes. But, he was the only guy who was interested in me. Seth, I was poor, but also sometimes Jack said I look "homely."

 

William was probably fearful of taking chances, because he never had a girlfriend. William was....heavy, okay….fat, and already had a mustache. All the girls thought he was forty, but he's actually 16.

 

"I'm a genius, trust me," William said all the time. But, I didn't have proof that he was or not. How was I supposed to know he was a genius? And if he was a good guy, but why doesn't he want Jack and I to get together and have the best time of our lives?

 

I didn't know, Sethy. I just knew, that every time I saw you on Saturday Night Live, I just adored you, and you were my dream man. I was too young for you, because you were in your late thirties, and I was in my late teens, but who cares about age, right?

 

Was I supposed to compare you to Jack or to anyone or anything? I didn't think so!

 

So, I decided, if Jack wanted me, with all of the imperfect accents inside my life of having an absent Dad and a runaway Mom, then why not?

 

The best thing about me were, I was sweet, from head to toe, and I didn't care if people told me I was too crazy about Jack. Jack already knew that, and I just knew that we were meant to be together and it was time for us to canoodle and cuddle. I believed that was how candies of love were made, and how good hearts were born with.

 

So, please think of me in good thoughts and pray Jack won't treat me as hard candy, so I could stop feeling the imperfections of life from now on. Jack was from a middle-class family and I was low-income, so financially, we would support each other. I will be in good hands, forever.

 

Until next time, and YES, I still love you,
WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

February 20, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I was so happy that you didn't care if I wrote to you at all. I thought this letter was going to be all about my anger for people who told me not to succeed. Dad told me to lay low and stop working at T-Bell and concentrate at school. He didn't understand that it was my only way to get money to go out with Jack. It was the only place where I felt excited and happy.

 

Between tortillas and the heating block, I placed my stresses about Dad on the hot plate. The fresh pico de gallo and salsa verde gave me a spicier taste buds and knack for life. I asked Dad all the time, if I could have some time with him, and he said he had to work. So this job, sort of replaced my time with him and the sadness from it. It helps me, and it heals me. I didn't want to lose my job.

 

I just hated people right now, and I was going to blame a lot things on people in general. World hunger, bullies, human trafficking violation, black carbon, all kinds of stuff, I was going to think it was all their fault, not mine...all theirs, and all Dad's. Because he didn't care about me!

 

I was really angry. Please, don't get upset at me, Sethy, since I was just releasing my pain and stresses out on these letters. You should be proud of me, because I was trying to help myself, to just release all kinds of pain through my job at T-Bell, and maybe someone out there will see how they were not alone.

 

It was all just stresses I had from my life because my Dad was a drunk. It was too weird, because I was almost 18 years old (an adult), and Dad didn't want me to have the money to take care of myself. He might as well told me to never dream, imagine, succeed, or even love Jack, because he was a failure and I was so angry about it. Dad was on the same team as alcoholism, and addictions. He was on THAT team! Why should I bother listening to him?

 

He said, "You should sympathize with me, and feel how much I want to be more successful and happier in life." He was super stupid! He told me this when I was the one who was taking care of the house chores, and I took care of myself. He paid the rent and electricity, but I paid for the groceries, and I never asked for my money back.

 

"You're going to become a failure! So you need to work hard!" Dad said to me, all the time. SO I WAS WORKING HARD DAMN IT!

 

Somehow, he felt it was necessary to label me with his own dictionary that he made up with dirt. This was why I didn't like him, because he wasn't very smart or creative and he used a large negative value to create a positive effect. He failed ethics and math, the same way I was doing in those class.

 

This was why I didn't care about people in general, and this was why I ddin't care for friends. I only had Jack and I wanted to prove my love to him, because I doubted that Dad loved me at all.

 

What kind of life partners was Dad in the first place? I wondered why Mom left, and I think I knew why. I only heard fights, never discussions or even sweet talks. They always blamed each other and talked about each other behind each other's back.
 
Sethy, I'll just release all the beef I had about him by writing it out. Don't worry, I was not always this tart, and the sweet will come out when we meet, it will be all sugar cane. I promise.

 

All the negative that deteriorated me, really won't hurt me anymore if I ever meet you, or if Jack marries me after high school. The ridicules of Dad's rejection that completely destroyed me, won't degrade my values in life anymore.

 
Sorry Seth, I was just confessing my hates to you. Thanks for just being there Seth, you didn't have to do anything at all, and it was really a simple help you gave me. You were so sweet, and I enjoyed our imaginary friendship! LOVING IT!

 

I'm stronger without Dad,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

 

February 27, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers, of Saturday Night Live,

 

Did you have a dream, Gorgeous? Boy, did I have dreams. I had a dream that there were happy people everywhere, just loving, sweet, and not willing to give up on themselves. I had a dream that every family has a powerful leader, a good strong example of good support, and responsible provider for their loved ones. I had a dream of a family with Jack, and he was my dream man.

 

I just spent the whole week with him at his family's cabin in Breckenridge, Colorado. His father, who was an engineer, asked me to come.

 

Sethy, if it wasn't for my dreams, goals, or even day to day hopes and wishes that are so beautiful, I would lose my sight of my own beauty. What I meant was, I didn't say no.

 

I realized I was allowed to love Jack, even if I was a low-income teen with an alcoholic father. You know us girls, … we wanted to feel beautiful! This was why I wished, prayed, dreamed, and planned for a good life, and most of all … working on it! I was proving my love to Jack. It was going to be hot hot hot.

 

We only spent a week at the cabin, and snowboarded, all paid by Jack's father and mother. I didn't mind it. Most of all, I felt included. I was a part of their family.

 

"What does your Dad do, Mary?" Jack's Mom, Jennifer, asked me. She was a brunette, and only 35 years old. Jack's Dad is Ben, a blonde, 45 years old, and looked like Jack. They were a perfect family, and his younger sister, Abby, was a smart cookie. She was ten years old, and already reading at high school levels. I rarely had time to read, and I felt so privileged to be a part of their family.

 

Sethy, besides you, I was in love with Jack. It was final. I won't take no for an answer. I decided and it was forever. I wanted this to last, and if it only took sex to do it, then it shall be.

 

I loved being in love, and I wanted everyone to be on this adrenaline love, without the Diet Coke! I just wanted everybody to feel happy, and to respect one another, because there were just too many lives tattered, and dreams torn apart, and Mothers leave their children, leaving Fathers sleeping on couches.

 

This was why I was working on being a part of Jack's family, because I wanted a good life. One day, I would have a strong family, good community, and powerful children out of my womb, like Jack's Mom, Jennifer.

 

I was going to start with me, because I loved you, Sethy. This was REAL!

 

I felt so pretty!!!

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

February 28, 2010
 
To the forever gorgeous Seth Meyers, of Saturday Night Live,

Okay, I read over the letters I wrote you and they all sucked! Full of all sorts of errors, and funny words, and I wondered if you would ever read them.  I needed to write to you about my life and how I felt, because this was the only way I could survive.

 

I had no one to call family, Sethy. It wasn't funny. I talked to a counselor and the state pays her, otherwise, I would have no friends at all. I didn't want to talk to anyone at school about my life, except for Mabel, because she asked me. Fine, maybe she was a friend, but I wasn't sure.  

 

I wrote these letters to you because I thought it was romantic, but I don't even think I would send them.  I sometimes kiss your picture in my wallet, especially during the bus rides and on those less than perfect days.  You made me feel better, and I didn't tell Jack. If I could kiss you, I think I will just lose control! I would drop Jack in an instant!

 

Did you really have a girlfriend?  Why couldn't we be friends? I think I was crazy about you, and I just dreamt about meeting you, being with you, loving you, dating you, and falling in love with you. I just cou'dn't help it, and I didn't ever want to see you go away from SNL! Where would I find you if you go away? Surf another channel on television or internet? Unless you would have another show, then I will watch your show forever!

 

I prayed that we would meet, as soon as possible, before you transfered to another job! I wished you tape your shows nearby my house!  Then, we could have bagels and lox each week, and maybe we could have Vietnamese Pho Noodles for dinner.  I have no idea how these ideas came to my mind. I promised I was not ill, but I was sad that some things in my life were. My job, for instance, I almost got fired this evening because I kept asking for help on the burrito line and no one wanted to help me. My manager said I was being lazy, and I whispered and told him to screw himself and he heard me.

 

My microcosm of life was never perfect and I only had SNL to ease my pains.  If it was a perfect world, my wishes would come true, and we would meet, then everyone would let me love you, EVERYONE! Who cares if I was only 18. If you could only see my heart, you would fall in love with me. 

I'd still want to meet you, even 40 years from now.  I just think you're HOT! I was sure you have millions of gorgeous women who were falling in love with you, but maybe some of them weren't spicy and sweet like me.  But, maybe they were proper and older than me, but I would be flavorful, and a little Szcheuan never hurt anyone.  

 

I just prayed you will give me that fair chance when we meet, or maybe you would sweep me off my feet today. I just wanted to love you, and I hoped you were down to Earth. If you could only feel what I felt, you may even cry about it.  For a girl like me, to fall in love and reach out to her dream celebrity hottie, it was a miracle.  

 

I loved Saturday Night Live, and I was just captivated by you! Please don't think I was desperate or lonely, even though I was. I just knew you made me happy.  

 

I think it was okay to write to a celebrity and wished upon a star for him to love her.  It was normal and healthy, even through these letters.  If you thought I was reaching too high, trust me, I was actually an angel, who was sweeter in person than you thought.  I was not ugly Seth, but I was charming and cute.  

I may not always be perfect, but my feelings for you were all perfectly beautiful. 
 
Somehow, a pretty fairy, 
WishesOoohWishes

 

p.s: I also wrote Jack a letter, but he never wrote me back. Maybe he was being lazy.

 

 

February 29, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I wanted to tell you something, Sethy. Jack and I, ... we did it. In the cabin in Breckenridge, when his Mom, Dad and Abby were asleep. I didn't want to tell anyone, even you, even through these letters, but I was scared. I didn't know why.

 

Dad didn't know. Please don't tell him, in case you were telepathic. I heard every anchor on Weekend Update had some kind of gift, that they had visions of people's lives because of that world map behind them and it had some kind of powers. It was a curse but also a gift, but each anchor knew who their favorite fans were, and they could see the lives of their favorite fan through the camera.

 

I just always pictured you, inside my mind, working my conscience and helping me. But, trust me, Sethy. Jack loved me, besides, no one loved me at all, so Jack's love was precious. I seriously thought no one would appreciate me, if Jack wasn't my boyfriend and if we weren't having sex.

 

It felt like it was some kind of higher status, that we were a sexually active couple in high school. Sort of rebellious, but liberal and forward thinking at the same time. We used a condom, of course. I felt I was the popular and in crowd, because I was sexually active and had Jack next to me, and I was invited to his villa in Breckenridge.

 

I think it was time people accept it, but trust me, I won't EVER tell our parents about this. NEVER! They were the last people on Earth that should know about it, because I didn't want to get in trouble.

 

Everything was safe with you, Seth. I could tell you everything through my letters, and it was perfectly normal. Even my counselor adviced me to keep writing, and she told me that I was smart. I think I was, too.

 

In love with you, … and Jack, ?

WishesOooohWishes (a.k.a Mary, the marriage material).

 

 

~"TRIGGER WARNING"~

 

 

March 1, 2010

 
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Jack and I did it again, and this time, it was at school.

 

We had lunch and went to the farthest side of the football field, next to the bleachers and we did it. He said he used a condom, and I trusted him. He always had a pack of it inside his bag. His appetite for sex was beyond my control. I couldn't seem to know when he wanted it, but I just let him because I didn't want to see him go away. It was the last thing I wanted in my life right now, because if Jack goes, I won't have no one to love me. Dad was in love with Brenda and I didn't really know anyone else in town.

 

Mabel was a frenemy I think. She seemed nice, but she liked Jack too much. I always held Jack's hand tightly, especially with Mabel around, because I didn't want to let him go, and sex was our bridge to each other.

 

It was nice that day we did it in the football field. It was cold and the snowflakes landed on my nose, so the heat in between us kept us warm. We had this thing that he holds my chest tight and he kisses me as we have sex. It felt intense and I loved every minute of it. Jack was happy with me, I hoped.

I believe he was the best thing that ever happened in my life.

 

"It's okay to experiment at our age," he often tells me, and it made me feel so much better. First, because he was with me, and second, because it was our little secret. 

 

He was tender afterwards, and he caressed my cheeks and held me tight. He said that I was his first love, and he was definitely mine. I didn't ever want to lose him. It would be the end of my life.

 

If Dad was gone, as I sometimes felt like it might happen anytime, I would try to survive, but if Jack was gone, I'd be in deep trouble. Dad wasn't there all the time, so I was used to it, and I figured, I could live with Jack's family. I knew his family loved me.

 

Seth, if you meet me, I would be taken by Jack. Also, I knew you have a girlfriend, at least that was the rumor around school. All the SNL fans talked about it. We have a comedy club at school and we talked about SNL all the time, and although I wasn't in it, I heard their gossip. Mabel told me that they analyzed the skits since Dan Akroyd and even when Eddie Murphy was on. We all remembered how to not look po nub in all the wrong places, looking po nub. 

 

Jack also loves you and he loves SNL, and he said that you were lucky. But, I felt lucky because of Jack.

 

Lucky girl,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

March 6, 2010
  
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

Today, you gave my sadness a piece of cheese to smile about, and that sorrow ran away like a pansy.

 

Dad and Brenda were at it again. They had sex last night, and I heard them from my room. She has been coming over to our house more often, and she cooked us dinner after I came home from work.

I ate lobster and rotini, and it was delicious, but I was nervous because I think I might have a new mother. Brenda was nice to my Dad and he loves her, I think.

 

Dad didn't drink that much anymore, and they told me that they met through some group that Target sponsored him to go to so he could keep his job. His friend Sam didn't come anymore because I think Dad mentioned something about Knights of the Columbus group that Sam belonged to. Sam was a good guy, and he had a bad divorce, but my Dad said that his heart was Irish Catholic.

 

I escaped inside my room, and wrote to you. You didn't have to be here, and you were only near me through a picture, but even that picture made me forget about my stresses that wavered in my mind. It might be because of those trancing eyes of yours, even if they weren't blue, that would make any girl fall in love with you.

 

Jack hasn't called me for a couple days, and it's okay because I knew he's in love with me. He must be busy with Abby or with his parents but I didn't mind, because we see each other during school and I was busy with work after school. My biggest fear was Jack cheating on me, because I would be the easiest person to cheat on, and that's what my Dad told me. But, Dad never cheated on Mom, because it was Mom who wanted to leave us. So, Jack better not leave me or I would be so sad.

 

To keep my mind off of those fears and stresses, I wrote to you, Seth, and it was so amazing to have you in my mind. My vision was of you and me, meditating on the sand near an ocean, while the breeze eased our souls and remedied my life with your healing presence by my side.

 

Everything was so peaceful and calm with you near me, as the ocean waves serenaded you and me, to bring forward that peace of mind. This was how I thought of you, not as a meditation partner, but as the helper of my soul.

 

I enjoyed every letter I wrote, because they helped me focus on the reality of everything around me through simple writing of stress relief of love to you. I just loved you, Seth Meyers, and it wa undeniably true that I may be your most loveable fan you will ever have! That was in comparison to everyone in the world, from Australia to Brazil, or from Sweden to Japan, I was most likely, your favorite fan! It was endearing wasn't? To be loved for your skills, your work, and who you were, that in itself was a reflection of how beautiful I was.

 

I loved moments of random visions of you, and I didn't care what people said about me and my state of mind. Who were they to judge? I was sure they loved someone, too, or maybe they didn't have the courage to stand up for themselves and became a totally random individual who just love!

 

I did worry about my own life too sometimes, because all I thought about was you, and how much I loved Saturday Night Live, but I was confident that Jack won't mind. I did watch other shows and I did love other celebrities, but your picture calmed my soul, that wass when I knew you were my favorite!

 

I loved you, Seth Meyers, and it won't change, even 40 years from now.

 

Eternal Flame,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

 

March 7, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

  

Dad smiles now. I never saw him smile before, not even growing up. He was always so tired and when he worked at the car factory, he was always so serious. Mom never smiled either, and she was always so sad and cried most of her days. I didn't know what happened to her, she never wrote us any letters and we didn't know where she went. She disappeared.

 

Brenda was the person who gave my Dad some smiles. I guess that was great, and I was happy for him, and I didn't want to see anything wrong again. I would rather have Brenda than Sam, because Sam was bad influence and he brought too much alcohol into our home.

 

Brenda didn't drink, and she said she's been sober for twenty years. She looked like she was in her forties, so that's a very long time. Dad was only 47 years old, but he looked older. I hope Brenda will get him to exercise and they could go out more and more.

 

Jack still hasn't called. I started to worry. The last time I saw him was Friday, after we had sex at the bleachers, and today was Sunday, but he hasn't called. I didn't know what I did wrong. I will try to call him tonight after work. I hope it was nothing major.

 

I loved you, Seth, but I loved Jack more because we did it. If you and I were a couple, we would be arrested for our age difference, but Jack was perfect. He was tall with curly brunette hair, and grey eyes. From a far, he looked like a lone wolf, but he was my lone wolf. He was absolutely beautiful and he has large deep set eyes and mesmerizing smile. His lips were supple and thick, enveloping all of mine, and he had smooth taupe skin with broad shoulders and a beautiful oval face. He was perfection.

 

If I never met Jack, my life would be empty. I won't have anyone to confide in, and I told him everything but I didn't tell him about you. You were my secret, and these letters were my secrets. These letters were my true feelings, desires, my relief and my comfort. I wrote them all to you, my SNL hero. If you didn't exist, Sethy, I would be empty, too, but I won't think that way, because it's not real and I have to stick to reality of Jack and me, and WHY HASN'T HE CALLED?!

 

Confused,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

March 9, 2010

 
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 
I dreamt of you last night, and we were walking in New York City.  I think we were definitely supposed to meet, because I had the same recurring dream for a while now, and it was starting to affect my sleep.  I think it was either because I missed you or I kept watching the Youtube webcast once too many times during the week.  

 

I felt the real reason was because the good spirits from above were in love with the idea of you and me in New York City. In this dream, we were at Gray's Papaya, and we both had the largest Papaya juice cup in the world. We couldn't finish the drink, so we just held the cup in our hands, and walked the city together.  

 

We stopped near a shoe shiner, and I pulled out my harmonica that was suddenly in my pocket, and started to sing a song I wrote especially for you on G major.  "Ohhhhhh, Seth Meyers!"

 

The verse repeated twice then ended with a riff in falsetto.  The shoe shiner's son tap danced to my voice, and the shoe shiner clapped his hands, and told me, "Don't kiss him if this is your first date."
 

We smiled, and you told me, "I think you are the cutest girl I've ever met."  I wanted to grab your hand, and just give you a hug, but it would have been too forward for a first date with my hero, so I held the papaya juice cup instead.  
 

Then, we went inside a Chinese variety store, and for some reason, I asked the store keeper about sweeping you off your feet, because I had to make sure you would remember me in the dream.

 

I asked the store keeper, "I want him to know, that I am the sweetest girl he will ever meet.  What should I do?"

 

The store keeper replied, "Just feed him, but don't sing to him, because you're tone deaf."

 

Then, the store keeper gave me a little jade rooster, and told me, "I give one for you, and one for Sexy boyfriend."  Immediately, I just had to get out of the store, for fear he would try to set you up with his daughter!  

 

As we walked out of the store, you opened the door for me and told me, "It's my job to sweep you off your feet." I almost cried, and looked at you the same way I would when I saw a mountain turtle.  Afterwards, I handed you one of the rooster charm from the store keeper, and we walked to the next store in New York City.  

 

Then, I woke up, revived, loving you, and wishing for Gray's Papaya juice.

Now, I wondered if we would ever meet, and if you would ever notice me.  

 

I trust and believe, that some forces beyond my control were holding me gently, and loving me. Heaven knew, how much love I had in my heart for you, and love would never go unnoticed.  I wrote these love letters out of respect of that love, and I knew you would respect me, for loving you in the most peculiar way.  

 

Maybe one day, I would be the most perfect dream for you, and maybe deep down inside, you loved Gray's Papaya juice. If somehow these letters escaped from under my bed and landed in cyberspace, please know that I loved you.  I thought you were the most amazing star I would like to meet, and you were forever gorgeous, Seth Meyers!  

 

I hoped one day we could go to Gray's Papaya, and order their papaya juice in the largest yellow plastic cup in the world, and walked in the city while holding hands.  
 
That was a great dream, and I would stick to it!
 
Ohhhhhh, Seth Meyers! I love you!
WishesOoohWishes 

 

 

 

March 10, 2010

   

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

  

I called him. I wasn't supposed to, because the guy was always the one who had to call the girl after sex.

 

At the bleachers, Sethy! I got hurt. I wasn't supposed to. It was just a gossip, and it was supposed to be romantic, but now he hasn't called and I felt screwed. If he breaks it off, then the rumors of him being a player was true. I got hurt, Sethy. What in the world was I supposed to do?

 
I watched SNL this past weekend and it didn't help. You talked about how worms mated in the night and it was a one-night stand. Then, you were with Ben Affleck in a crazy skit and you both started to kiss each other, but those crazy antics all didn't help.

 

I cried all night and couldn't breathe properly. My mental illness flared up, too. I was just slumping down and it I couldn't do anything about it. What will I do now at school? Everyone will laugh at me. I got hurt, Sethy.

 

He hasn't called. I got hurt!

 

  

I wish you could help me,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

March 11, 2010

  

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I talked to no one at school today. No one looked at me in the eyes at school. They dodged me, each one of them. Mabel said she couldn't talk and she had so much homework that she couldn't spend anytime with me. I didn't do any of mine and everyone at the lunch table helped me do it. There was Sean, Derek and Benjamin, and Anna and Alexis and Nga. They each gave me the answers to the Trigonometry homework.

I won't know if my grades will make it this year, and I was planning to go to the Community College anyway. I didn't want to stress myself out.

 

I remembered you said that in Florida, shit happened all the time? That news in Florida was like news from outer space? That's what my life felt like right now. It was crazy and shitty, and slimy, putrid, green pukey and I hated it.

 

All the kids didn't look me in the eyes, and that meant something was wrong. I needed to know.

 

Shit will go down in my life, and you were the only hope,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

 

March 12, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

   

Sethy! Jack screwed me over.

 

I cornered Mabel near the lockers after school. I walked from behind her and steered myself closer to her shoulders, and just kept pushing her to the lockers with this whole body. All 140 pounds of soft flesh, cornering her to the edge of the lockers as she flailed her arms trying to fend off the wall on the other side. She lost, and couldn't beat me or the wall, so she put her back to the lockers and I kept edging with my shoulders.

 

"What is going on? I know you know. What was whirling in the crowd?" I asked her.

 

"Nothing is swirling. No hot chocolate, nothing. Just me. I don't know anything," Mabel said.

 

"Why is everyone ignoring me? I didn't do anything wrong. Jack hasn't called and not a soul wanted to speak to me. Tell me the truth," I said to her.

 

Mabel looked down to her measly sweater and I pushed her stomach in with my fist. She squirmed and finally said, "Okay! Okay! Okay!"

 

"Tell me!" I yelled at her face.

 

"Everyone knows you had sex with Jack behind the bleachers. Some kids saw you, and the whole school thinks you're a slut!" Mabel said. "You asked for it!"

 

I stepped back. I couldn't stop the tears from falling and Mabel held my arms, she said, "Don't….not in front of everyone. Get out of the hallway."

 

We walked to the bathroom, and got into the stalls, and she told me, "Jack bragged to the guys that your vagina was soft and tight. They smiled and got happy and Jack said you were hot. He told everyone he bagged a virgin."

 

I sobbed. She told me the truth, and I was really hurt inside, my soul cracked and I felt it in my gut that my life was over. I couldn't get out of the bathroom and wanted to stay in the stalls with Mabel.

 

"Did you do it?" Mabel asked me.

 

I breathed in, and broke the silence that held me. I tried to say, No, but couldn't.

 

"Yes," I told her, then closed my face with my palms and sobbed.

 

Mabel wasn't impressed. She looked to the toilet, and inhaled a big breath in. Thank goodness no one else was there. It was in between classes and my History class was for the birds.
 
"I didn't know Jack would do this to me," I said, in between breaths. "He told me he loved me. And that it was between us."

 

"They all say "I love you," said Mabel "They all just want some."

 

"But, I met his parents and they took me to Breckenridge," I told Mabel.

 

Mabel held my arms down from my face, and breathed in and looked at me. I followed her breathing, and calmed myself down. 

 

Mabel cried with me. We held each other's arms and cried.

 

"What's your plan?" Mabel asked.

 

"Nothing," I said.

 

"You have to have a plan," said Mabel.

 

"Shit. Nada, nothing, null. I'm screwed over," I said. "When did you find out?"

 

"A week ago," said Mabel.

 

"A week ago? We just had sex a week ago? He talked loud," I said. "That means he did it after we had sex."

 

I wiped my tears, and my snot. Mabel took some toilet paper and gave it to me. I took it and blew my nose as loud as possible. I hated my life. I hated Jack.

 

I couldn't stop crying. Mabel said, "I need to go to class. I won't be able to get into NYU if I skipped Calc."

She always wanted to go to NYU, but I just wanted to go stay alive.

 

She left me in the stalls, sobbing. I took some more tissues, and walked out sometime later. I went to the school office and told the admin-lady, "I'm sick. I need to go to the doctor. I have to go."

 

The admin-lady tried to stop me and said something about a permit and a signature from my teacher and the principal, but I crossed her and walked out.

 

I walked home, a few miles away, and wrote this to you.

 

My life was over, Sethy. Didn't know what to do,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

March 13, 2010

 
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 
I didn't do anything. I stayed home. Dad knocked on the door, and told me to wake up. It was noon, and I didn't want to get out of bed. He said, "You still have to pass your class to go to Community College."

 

I didn't care. I was supposed to graduate soon. I didn't know when, sometime in the Summer. Who cares!

 

"Mary, you have to make sure you can survive this world without me," Dad said. "I'm not going to be here forever."

 

I didn't answer him. I pulled my blanket over me, and closed my eyes, then grabbed my pen and wrote to you, Seth. You're my inspiration. I ignored Dad, and kept closing my eyes until words appeared in my vision, and wrote them down.

 

In my vision, hope jumbled down to oblivion, and around it were thorns of roses, but it was silver steel sharp and it surrounded me. The thorns from the roses pricked my skin all over my body, and it wrapped itself around me piercing through. Blood spurted out of my skin, bleeding me down to the Earth.

 

I felt a darkness inside my blood and it ran through inside my heart and it depleted my energy. My head thrown back and my eyes rolled back as it took my energy, this dark spirit, and I wilted down to the Earth and laid bare in my jeans and shirt all bloodied and sopped.

 

I didn't tell Dad, and I told no one else but you. I loved your face, Sethy, and I loved your whole being. I knew you wouldn't do any harm towards me, the moment I saw you on television. I knew you would be my anchor, aside from Weekend Update.

 

I knew you would be my hero, from a far land of New York, even if New Jersey was next door. I've never been to New York. All of my life, I was with Mom and Dad and when Mom left, all of my desires went with her. Dad kept knocking on the door and asking me, "Please get up, honey. I don't want you to skip school tomorrow. Can you please get up?"

 

I ignored him.

 

I think I will ignore the world, because the world ignored me.

 

Yeah! That's my revolt! I just threw a protest.

 

I hated everything,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

March 14, 2010

  
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 
T-Bell was brutal. There were tacos with my tears in it, and burritos with no salsa. I didn't know what to do. I just kept holding the line, and placing every order as it said on the printer. I almost burned myself on the heating block and there might be a burrito with two layers of tortilla. I didn't tell anyone that I was depressed. I kept on.

 

Sethy, you would be proud of me, I didn't drink soda. I might have cried the whole six hours I was at work, but I didn't drink a sip of Diet Coke, my usual vice. I was offered Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, Mountain Dew, that orange stuff, and the tea, but nope….I said I was drinking water. My body craved it.

 

The probability of me graduating was slim, because I didn't pay attention to class at all, ever since I started seeing Jack. He took all of my attention and all I wanted was to hear from him this week, especially after we had sex at the bleachers. The least he could do was call me to say everyone didn't find out, and that he kept our moment to ourselves and everything Mabel said were just speculations, rumors, gossip, unproven theory. Then, everything would be fine and back to normal.

 

Next order was nachos, and I piled on the beef and queso, because someone would be happy at the other end. My manager said I was pleasing him, so I kept piling on the queso for each order, even when it didn't call for it. Everyone loves cheese, why waste melted gold?

 

It worked for a while, but I kept thinking about Jack and how hot he was. His perfect nose, his curly brown hair and how gentle he was when he made love to me. This whole ordeal felt surreal, and the whole rumors and gossips at school felt outer space. It didn't fit Jack's personality. Would he bragged about this? Or did someone saw us? Mabel did say someone saw us, but why brag about it to other kids?

 

Something was wrong, I have to talk to Jack,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

March 15, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

 

Last night after I came home from work, I just slept the night away and woke up at dawn. I stepped outside to our front door this morning and sat on the steps. The sky was pink with a hue of purplish ray of sun. I wanted to be the sun, a source of light, but I felt so blue inside. I wrote this in the evening of today, and I had a full day of somber thoughts.

 

I loved Jack, and I would marry him and bear his children. I wanted to stay here in Jersey and go to Community College together and major in something practical like nursing. We would work together, making ends meet, but I would be safe and stable because his parents were comfortable and Dad won't care if we married or not.

 

All Dad wanted yesterday was Brenda, she came over last night and they went to church together. She said my Dad changed himself for the better. Target gave him a raise and he's making $2 dollars more per hour now, and it's more than just minimum wage. With my paycheck and his paycheck, we make about $2000 per month and we paid the bills on time. I was happy about the pay raise, but my dreams with Jack made me happier, except it was all over. My reality deteriorated into a vortex of depression and whisps of darkness entering my thoughts.

 

The sadness was cold to my body at this moment, and even breathing wasn't comforting me.  I felt indignant of life, and what it gave me. I hoped for the most beautiful things, but the worst happened, and most of all, I lost his love.

 

I didn't call Jack. I wanted to confront him at school tomorrow. I needed to hear his words and the truth. I didn't want to imagine what he would say or predict what would happen. I needed to know for myself.

 

Tomorrow will come, and I was ready,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

March 16, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 
I came to school with a mission, to speak to Jack. I didn't want anyone to deter it, so I waited for him in front of the entrance at school. My black hoodie with elongated sleeves kept me warm, but I shivered from the cold. Jack wore a black parka with layers underneath with jeans, and I grabbed him by his sleeve and pulled him close to me. I sat him down on the bench near the entrance outside of the school gates.

 

"I need you right now," I said to him.

 

"Okay," he said. We walked to the edge of the front entrance and sat down on the wooden bench. "What's going on?"

 

"How come you didn't call me for the past few days?" I asked him.
 
"Just busy with Abby, she needs some training, you know that," Jack said.

 

"Training? With what?" I asked. "We had sex, Jack. It's a big deal."

 

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "It felt good, but I thought we went too fast. We just have to slow down a lot."

 

"I thought you were setting the pace, especially after the Breckenridge trip," I said. "I met your parents and everything felt real, Jack. I'm happy about it."

 

"Are you on your period?" Jack asked. My heart dropped, because it was such a "guy" response.

 

"NO!" I scolded. "It's not always hormonal, Jack. It's called being courteous. You should have called!"

 

A few kids heard me and looked to my direction, and walked inside the gate.

 

"Don't yell at me. First of all, it takes two of us to do it. You know that, I'm not always the one who has to initiate the phone calls. Why didn't YOU call me?" Jack replied.

 

"Because I'm the girl, Jack. The guy makes the moves, we know this," I said. "The guy needs to man up!"

 

"Such a prissy move on your part," said Jack. "I was busy!"

 

I looked into his eyes, wide and dark, as if his eye brows became mountains of anger towards me.

 

The tips of his eye lids were pink as his eyes watered. My eyes watered with his. I held his right hand for a second as he took it away from me. He got up and left me on the bench, in the cold morning air, alone.

 

He walked into the school gates and didn't look back. I felt something inside my chest dropped to my gut, and my head felt empty.

 

I looked to the rushes of students walking in, as the bell rang. My eyes wandered to the distance, then slanted to the side. I stared at the ground for ten minutes. I didn't want to go inside our school. Snow began to fall from the sky, and my bones felt a chill seeping into my bones.

 

Jack might be gone for good.

 

I thought love had just begun,

WishesOoohWishes. 

 

March 17, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 
Seth, I came back from school today with my eyes swollen, because I couldn't stop the tears from falling. Each class I went to was a blank space, and I didn't want to the there but I forced myself. I was failing English, and I didn't read Catcher in the Rye for my AP Class. I made up some story about how I had to work late at T-Bell and just sobbed.

 

Mrs. McCarthy told me to talk to her after class, but I just left. She wanted to ask personal questions again, and I didn't want to talk to her. Of all the teachers at school, Mrs. McCarthy was the nicest, and English was my favorite subject, but I was a lost cause. I didn't want anyone to know why I was crying, because Jack abandoned me after a week of bliss and sex at his parent's villa in Breckenridge, Colorado.
 
I was scared of the kids at school, because eyes were prying into my life, as if everyone had a bubble over their heads that said, "What's the slut doing here? Go have sex behind the bleachers!"

 

I didn't even get to ask Jack those questions. Seth, I was right, right? He was supposed to call, right?

 

I've never had sex before, but I swore, on every episode of Glee, the guy always made the call. Maybe I was watching too few episodes to really know the truth. I meant, Glee showed real life right? Sethy?

 

In between songs and dance numbers, there was an invisible understanding that if a couple was having sex, they called each other and even texted. Jack didn't do that! Seth, was I high maintenance?

 

My sweater and jacket felt worn out and I haven't done laundry for weeks. Dad wasn't home when I got home yesterday. This morning before school, I saw him with Brenda making breakfast. For sure, they had sex. I didn't want to ask, but I just knew. I didn't look them in the eye because that would terrify me. I felt bad because Jack never made breakfast at Breckenridge. We did it the last night we were there and the next morning we had to fly back with his folks.

 

At school, we just went back to class after sex behind the bleachers, and I walked home. So this morning, when Brenda offered some French Toast, I dodged her and said no. I took my cereal bowl and ate outside on the steps.

 

Seth, was I being difficult? I wasn't sure of anything at all. I felt it was my fault I feel this way, because Jack said it took the both of us to have sex, and he was right. I really wanted to be with him, and so I let him.

 

Seth, why did I feel so bad? It was supposed to be romantic.

 

I felt like Drunk Uncle's niece, that cameo guy with spiky greying hair who slurs his words to talk about his dysfunctional family. I felt like I was the butt of his jokes, the girl everyone talked about. At school, Mabel and I didn't really talk, and as usual, I was alone in the halls, wandering if I should be there at all because Jack wasn't with me. I felt incomplete.

 

After school, I worked and it was the usual burrito line and did some floor sweeping. I cleaned the bathroom and bleached the toilet seats. There weren't a lot of customers and my manager, Ben, was always nice.

 

"What's wrong, Mary?" he asked. His black vest always looked ironed and clean.

 

"Just school stuff," I told him. My eyes still felt tender and puffy from crying for the past two days.

 

"You're almost done, right? Then college, a lot to look forward to," Ben said. "You have to look at it with an open arm. The future is so big!"

 

"It's just high school, Ben. Not a big deal," I replied.

 

Ben smiled at me, and replied, "I got lucky I graduated. I got lucky with this job, and I didn't go to college. But you, Mary, you've been good. You should be proud of yourself."

 

I kept a stiff upper lip and bit them into my mouth, holding the tears from falling. Sethy, Ben said I was being good, but I wasn't. I was the school slut.

 

Slutty Mary, and now people know!

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

March 18, 2010

 

 
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 
Seth, I didn't want it to happen this way. I wish you could've helped me. Today was brutal, I have to warn you, it was nasty.

 

I searched for Jack before lunch, and found him with Horatio just before fourth period. Jack hung out with him sometimes, because they were both Super Mario Brothers fans since middle school. I took Jack by his arm gently, and pulled him aside.

 

"Meet me near the bleachers," I whispered.

 

"Okay," said Jack. He smiled at me. I wanted to kiss him so much and I almost did, but he dodged and hugged me instead.

 

I went outside in a hurry right after fourth period and thank goodness the snow was just melting away.

It wasn't as cold as it looked with some water spots on the seats, but I stood beside it.

 

Jack walked towards me and my heart pumped and I was so happy he decided to meet me there.

I hugged him and he held me tight.

 

"What did you want to talk about?" Jack asked.

 

"I miss you," I said, opening all of my heart to him.

 

"I can't stay for long, let's talk about what you want to talk about," he said.

 

"We're still together, right?" I asked. I was pleading for a yes, and hoping to see him smile at me, and to hear him say he loved me.

 

"Eh, that would be no," he said.

 

I burst into tears, and couldn't look him in the eyes, as I asked, "Why? Was it my fault?"
 
"Yes, and no," Jack said. "My parents and I talked about it, and they felt we were too young to be so serious. They told me to wait until college."

 

I felt a huge arrow from behind me piercing through the front of my chest and my jaw gaped open.

 

His parents said they liked me, and that they invited me to Breckenridge and flew me to Colorado with Jack because they wanted me to feel welcomed. I didn't understand.

 

"Mabel told me that you bragged to your friends about us having sex here, behind these bleachers," I confronted him.

 

"That's rumors and gossips. I didn't say anything," Jack said.

 

I held him close to me, and begged him, "Please stay with me, we can work it out. So, I won't feel so alone in this. It's embarrassing, Jack."

 

I ran my fingers through his curly hair and reached to his lips and kissed him.

 

He kissed me and pushed me closer to the bleachers with his body. His kiss felt hard and he bit my lips, and I pouted and said, "Ouch, that hurt."

 

He grabbed my chest and his kiss became hard as his body pushed me further underneath the seats.

Tears came out of my eyes, and I felt his body pushed me down to the ground. He took my jeans and opened the buttons and I wasn't ready for what happened next. His left hand cupped my face, and his right hand reached underneath my jeans as he told me, "Hush, Mary…be still. Keep quiet."

 

My body stiffened and I kept still as he told me what to do and I felt his hand pressed down my face as I gasped for air. "You liked it so much, I liked it too, let's do this," said Jack. "You want it so much, Mary. Then you got this. You asked me for this."

 

I couldn't breathe and I didn't want to scream. Sethy, I wanted to kiss him, but I wasn't ready for all of this. I wished you were here to hold my hand and helped us rationalize what we needed to do. I wanted a relationship with Jack, but I think he just wanted sex.

 

He began pumping into me and it felt like a knife into my vagina, forcing himself into my womb, and hurting my stomach. It felt harsh and my body jolted with his every move. I wanted him to get off me, but my body felt stiff and frozen. When he finished I felt him groan and pushed me in.

 

My eyes sobbed as my nose moistened and wet his hand. "Eeewww, gross. You got snot all over," he said. I sobbed and couldn't stop crying.

 

"Please stop, Jack," I begged him. "Please…it hurts. It's too rough."

 

He pushed me away and got up. He pulled his jeans up and reached for my hand, but I couldn't get up. I laid on the ground, with my tears running down my temples. I buttoned my jeans and got up slowly.

 

"Okay. That was nice, but I can't stay. You got what you wanted," Jack said.

 

The tears felt hot on my face, and my eyes bulged out of my eye sockets. My body felt feeble with the air from inside of soul depleted of energy. The space in between my chest cracked and my brain split in half.

 

I felt crazy, stupid, dumb, and all I hoped for was for no one to find out about it.

 

Sethy, please don't say anything. Please don't tell anyone. I was so scared. I wished you were here to be my friend. I wished you are my big brother, or even my neighbor.

 

Hurting,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 
March 19, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 
Yesterday played over and over inside my head and inside my body. My body was stiff and I let the snow soaked into my jeans for a moment to cool me down. My veins felt hot and I boiled inside my body, not out of anger, but out of fear.

 

When Jack got up from on top of me, he also said, "I'm happy you love me. I think this was meant to happen." He zipped his jeans, and told me, "You know you wanted me so much. I hope you're okay. I gotta go."

 

I froze and my legs fell asleep and I couldn't move the bottom part of my body. Jack kicked me, and said, "Get up! You need to go!" And he walked away.

 

I closed my eyes and cried. My breath stifled and the moisture from my nose ran down the side of my lips. Tears ran down my temples and my eyelids felt warm. Something popped inside my head and there was spinning as I laid there on the snowy ground. I was inside a dark well, with rocks over me. I fluttered my eyes open after a few minutes and looked up and saw the underside of the bleachers seats.

 

"I'm sorry," I said to myself. "I'm sorry." I didn't know why I said it, but I felt guilty and burned through my soul. It was my fault I kept kissing him. It was my fault I kept pushing him. Jack was angry and I pushed him too hard. "I'm so sorry," I said once more.

 

I turned to my left and cradled my legs on the ground. With my right hand, I pushed off the dirt, and lifted my torso up. My head spun and my legs felt weak from Jack's pressure over me. My left leg folded and I pushed myself up from the ground with my wet jeans and my jacket soaked on the back side. "I'm sorry," I kept saying. I didn't know what else to say.

 
Seth, I got in trouble. It was my fault. I asked for it. I wished Jack would have slapped me instead of this. I wasn't sure what to do.

 

My stance felt wobbly and I almost fell walking up to the school grounds from the fields. Approaching the school doors to the hallways, I kept sobbing and couldn't bear to be there in front of everyone. I didn't want to tell anyone. This was embarrassing and there were already rumors of me being a slut. I walked through the side of the building, and kept on walking home.

 

Work was always after school. I had to call in sick. I was so stupid. What did I do to myself?

 

Seth, I ruined my life.

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

March 21, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Seth, I tried to watch SNL, and tried to write to you, but it has been tough on my brain. A part of me disappeared the time Jack was rough on me. I tried calling him on my cell phone but he didn't pick up. I didn't go to school, and I didn't go to work. I didn't want to see anyone. I wanted to stay underneath my blanket because it was warm and comforting. I wished I could speak to Jack about why he did that to me.

 

Seth, I wished you could talk to Jack for me, to ask him what happened and why he hurt me last Thursday. The house was a mess. It was a two bedroom in Jersey City and there was a bodega nearby. We have a couch and a fridge and an armoire in front of the couch where the television was and that was where I watched SNL. Dad and Brenda tried to clean up but they said I caused to much mess for them to clean up so they stopped cleaning up after me.

 

I will lay low and won't tell anyone about what happened with Jack. I won't tell Dad because he would just freak out and I won't be able to stay here anymore. I wished you live next door to me, as my neighbor, so I could confide in you and you could help me rationalize my thoughts. The past few days, I dreamt of accidents and I was thrown out of my Spanish Class for being myself because Miss Pestian hated me. In my dream, she called me a slut, and so did the rest of the class and I tried to calm down but they pushed me down and kicked my ribs.

 

I woke up drenched in tears and I didn't want to get out of bed.

 

I felt a burning sensation in my pelvic but I didn't to bring up Jack to anyone. It felt like rape, Seth. I tried to not think about it, but that was what it felt like. I wish you could help me. It felt so rough and brutal to me, and he kicked me to get up and left. He didn't even say he loved me or tried to comfort me.

 

Seth, what was it? Was I raped? What should I do, Seth?

 

Scared, worried, and confused,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

March 22, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 
Seth, this morning I went to school. Dad got a phone call from one of my teachers, and he knocked on my door this morning to wake me up.
 
"Why did you skip school on Thursday and Friday?" Dad asked me.

 

"I didn't want to go. I wanted to just stay home," I replied.

 

"Get up and go to school. Or at least go to work," said Dad.

 

I woke up and went to school.

 

No one knew about what happened and I dodged Jack because I didn't want to get hurt again. Seth, if you could hear me through my heart's wishes, please send me help. Be my friend, Seth, and I want to be your best friend forever.

 

The kids at school looked me in the eye, but I looked away. I felt the world's burden on my shoulders as I walked down the hallway and in every class. I didn't pay attention and just looked to the teachers and kept quiet. The teachers never called on me, the sick girl in the corner with nothing to say. They didn't care and I didn't want to say anything to anyone.

 

I felt judged by the eyes of the world, although no one said anything at all. Seth, I felt like a specimen under a microscope, except I was shredded to pieces by Jack and everyone around the agar plate just looked at me condescendingly.

 

Perhaps Jack didn't mean what he said to me underneath the bleachers, and he didn't want to hurt me. I tried calling him, but he didn't pick up.

 

I hated my life, Sethy. Tears kept falling and I tried to get out of the bathroom after lunch, but I sat on the toilet alone and sobbed. My heart was broken and I wished I could leave this city, this school, and I didn't want to tell Dad.

 

I wished I could start over with life,

WishesOoohWishes.
 

 

 

March 23, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I went to work and I didn't care. I wanted to earn a living more than going to school and being barraged by stares of the pupils of Monarch High. Mabel kept calling, and if I told her anything,

 

I was worried she would say something to the teachers or the principal or other people and I would be hurt. She was always the staunch keeper of the law, and she never really liked Jack. So, I didn't say anything to anyone and just went to T-Bell in the morning and asked my manager if I could work there for eight hours.

 

"I don't know what's wrong in your life, Mary, but you sure love Taco Bell. I hope the love is real," he said.

 

The Manager for my T-Bell is Ben and he jokes about me loving the burrito line because I always jumped at the chance of keeping it together for the customers. I was the fastest burrito and taco builder in the joint. I earned a badge, a purple ribbon, of the same purple as the Taco Bell logo.

 

"I promise I won't waste anything," I told him.

 

He smiled, and said, "Drake called in sick , so I'd have you start with the drive-thru line, and work your way to the line."

 

"Thank you," I said, holding my palms together to him.

 

I stayed there from 8 in the morning until 7 in the evening, and Dad hardly noticed. He was with Brenda and I saw her whine to my Dad before for affection, so I hope they have fun and not bother me. I didn't want to be the third wheel.

 

I worked through those hours and was really happy because I accomplished something. I did my hours and earned some money at the same time. I walked home happy and I only had a cramp in my gut, but I ignored it.

 

I will ignore everything, until I feel better.

 

Only writing to you, Sethy,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

March 24, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I wish I was superhuman and could just fly to see you, Seth Meyers, to be my best friend, my neighbor, my confidant, because when I thought of you, although life was a struggle from not having a soul to love, somehow my soul found solace. For that, I would transfer all of my love to you, to forget about my struggles for a smidge. I skipped school again and I didn't care. T-Bell was more fun and I could day dream all day amongst burritos and mild sauce. Seth Meyers, you turned the chili picante inside of me into twisted crispy churros, all cinnamon sweet.

 
These heart breaks were just experiences, and I hoped they will pass its course and skip my life, forever thereon; because I didn't want struggling forms of anything in my future. Seth, if you were my best friend, I would tell you everything and I would tell you to speak to Jack and ask him why he did what he did.

 
Last night, I cried to pieces that my body shook and I jolted several times and I felt it might be a seizure. I wanted to tell Dad, but I wasn't sure if he would send me to the hospital and I wouldn't know what the cause of this illness would be.

 

I really love you now, because you were the only thing keeping me sane. The fairytale I wished for came to life with you, although it wasn't real, and only through the television. I would watch you on Saturday Night Live, my favorite show, and on the Youtube website, and having you through those devices comforted me and helped mend my heart.

 

I didn't mind seeing you through television at all, because I knew you were real and although you didn't know me, I loved you for who you were, because I could tell you are amazing inside out. I know you appreciated this love, although menial to so many people, this love was succor to me. My real heart was torn, and torment was its punishment, until I saw you and fire lit up my life again. It was like liberation day for any country when I saw you, and you could laugh, but just appreciate my honesty.

 

Seth Meyers, I will always be in love with you,

WishesOoohWishes (a.k.a Mary – in case one day I dare to come visit you and show up to you in person). 

 

 

March 25, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I had a panic attack. I think that's what it was. I stayed in bed all day because Dad didn't come home last night. He must be at Brenda's and I was happy he stayed there because I didn't want him to see me this way.

 

I sobbed uncontrollably and I wanted to leave the planet. I wanted out of this life and I hated myself because I let Jack hurt me. He was rough, Seth. Jack hurt me. I don't know what to do.

 

Sethy. I want out. But, that would mean I won't have you in my life again. Loving you keeps me alive. You are the only thing that holds me together right now. I only wanted to see you on Saturday Night and that is my reason to live right now. Seth, I wish you are here. I am so scared and I am hurting, in my soul, in my heart, in my body, and in my mind. I might have exacerbated my depression.

 
If you were a father, Seth, would you want a daughter who was raped. I think I was raped, Sethy. I didn't want to admit it, but I think I was. I don't know what to do. Please help me, Seth.

I wish you were here,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

 

March 26, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Last night I wanted to take all of my Dad's depression pills and end it, Seth.

 

I wanted to tell Dad, but he was at work and I didn't want to call him because he told me to go to sleep when he was working. When he came home, I pulled my covers and pretended I was okay, although my eyes were swollen and my pillow was wet from my snot and sobs.

 

I took the week off school. I didn't care, and when my Dad got the call this morning, he told them that I was sick. He came in to check on me and opened the door slightly, and asked, "Mary, why aren't you at school?"

 

"Took the week off, Jack broke it off," I told him. Jack did. He never said it directly, but he did hurt me.

 

I was really happy Dad asked me, because I thought he didn't care, but he asked. He closed the door and went to the kitchen. I heard him cooking breakfast and I pulled my blanket over me and tried to sleep the day away. I didn't want to live like this.

 

No more strength, Seth.

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

March 27, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 
At work I focused on the drive-thru orders, and sobbed a little bit, but I didn't sob the way I did last night. There was a tinge of pain in my abdomen, and I didn't care, it was probably because Jack was rough on me.

 

I didn't think I would be so fearful, but in my gut something told that I needed help and I was in trouble. I didn't want to speak to anyone about this. I was scared I would be hurt if someone knew about Jack hurting me. Was it rape, Sethy? It felt rough and it felt forced and I didn't say he could have sex underneath the bleachers that way. I wanted to just kiss him and get back together, but he said I wanted it. I supposed I did, but I also didn't.

 

The whole time at work, I had a swirl in my abdomen and it was twisting and felt hard inside, like a knife was in my stomach all the way to my neenoo-neenoo.

 

Seth, you know women stuff, but you're no doctor. I might have to go ask someone, but I didn't know who. I asked my manager, and he said Planned Parenthood takes Medicaid, for kids without insurance, and he advised me to go there. I will go tomorrow.

 

I'm sick,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

 

March 28, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 
Sethy, I walked to Planned Parenthood, it was about 5 miles away. It wasn't in a pretty neighborhood, and I was scared about walking in. I wished you were here to be my big brother and held my hand, even just to sign up to check on my health. I've never had a well-women exam before. It was a physical, they called it, but even as a 16 year-old, I've never been to one.

 

The Nurse Practitioner's name was Jasmine, and she was young, African American, and she was nice. She asked me if I had a reason for coming in, such as unplanned pregnancy. I told her that I had rough sex, and she said," I see."

 

"Was it your first time?" asked Jasmine.

 

"No, it was my second. The first time was in his villa in Breckenridge, when we went snow-boarding," I told her.

 

"How rough is 'rough sex'?" asked Jasmine.

 

I looked to the ground, and described to her what happened. I saw tears rolled down her cheeks, and I panicked, "No…it's not. Don't say it. I wasn't raped."

 

Jasmine closed her eyes, and breathed in, and said," There is a fine line between sex and rape, and rough sex is not sex at all. It was rape, Mary."

 

I closed my eyes with my palms and couldn't stop crying. I panicked and I told her, "I can't be raped. I'm only 16, and I can't be a rape victim."

 

Jasmine stood up, and went outside for a moment, and walked back inside with a pamphlet about signs of abuse and another one about rape.

 

"Why did you come here today?" Jasmine asked me.

 

"Pain in my abdomen," I said. "It just came yesterday, and I didn't have my period."

 

"Let's get on with the well women exam, and I can do some tests to see what's wrong, including a pregnancy test. We will wait for the results in an half hour. Just stay calm and be patient with me," Jasmine said.

 

"Thank you, Jasmine," I replied.

 

The stir-ups didn't scare me, but the speculum did. I wasn't prepared for the pain, and I was scared about being aware about it, but not as scared as when I had sex with Jack.

 

The process took fifteen minutes, with Jasmine pressing my insides and then my abdomen.

 

"I will take some tests with these slides, but from these physical tests, so far, your pelvic and abdomen are inflamed and perhaps your fallopian tubes inside. Signs of Pelvic Inflammatory Disease from Chlamydia," Jasmine said. "Also, I want to tell you that we have plans and guidance for teens here. You don't have to be afraid."

 

I looked to the ceiling and my eyelids closed and more tears came down to my temples.

 

Sethy, I believe I've ruined my own life. This whole time, I tried to work hard to help my Dad, and I'm trying to have true-love with Jack, but I was hurt by him.

 

Jasmine said I was to wait for the test results in an hour, so I had to wait in the waiting room. There were other young couples there, and I saw them and they were kissing. Jack and I never went to a clinic before we had sex. I trusted him.

 

I closed my eyes and sobbed again and got up off my seat and walked out. I couldn't stand it.

 

I was about a mile away, when Jasmine called me as she ran from Planned Parenthood, to fetch me.

 

"Take these," Jasmine said. "It will help you."

 

She gave me a small pill bottle and told me to take one on the spot. I did. She walked away, and looked back towards me, "It happens all the time. Don't be afraid. You can come back to us if you need help," she said.

 

I nodded. I saw Jasmine walked away and thought of how kind and caring she was to me. I didn't ask her to come and fetch me, but she did.

 

This whole thing hurts so bad, Sethy. I felt guilty and sad, because I tried to kiss him near the bleachers, to get back together. I wished I hadn't done that.

 

Sethy, I have a feeling I might die early. I've already gotten this STD, and I made wrong choices. I'm scared that I will always make the wrong choice. Seth, I wish you were here with me.

 

I wish you were my big brother,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

March 29, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I took a week off, Sethy and I was glad I did. I didn't have anyone to speak to about Jack. I tried talking to Dad, and he came home with Brenda, but he was drunk again. Brenda said they had a birthday celebration for her last night on Sunday. I thought they were friends from church, but it turns out they met somehow from an Alcoholic Anonymous group. I wanted to ask Dad about all this, but he was too busy and too drunk to speak to me.

 

When I was asleep, I heard noises from the kitchen and Brenda was trying to make coffee.  

 

"Is Dad okay?" I asked.

 

"He's just happy we're together. We haven't touched alcohol since we met. A drop of it won't hurt just to celebrate my birthday," said Brenda.

 

"I should've known you'd be lax about this," I said, with tears in my eyes. I knew Brenda wasn't strong enough, but who was I to talk. I was raped because I couldn't keep my hands off Jack.

 

"It's okay, Mary," said Brenda. "Your Dad is a grown man. He can handle it."

 

I looked to the stove in front of me and stared at the space between the two stove tops and breathed in deep and exhaled out an immense tension from inside my soul.

 

I didn't see them awake this morning when I went to school. I showered and took myself to a good walk to Monarch High. I was hoping I could stop by a bodega, but it was still closed at 7 am in the morning. I just wanted a chilled Frappucino, but I didn't get to have one. I walked on to the next block and saw a McDonalds and walked in and got myself a hot coffee with 5 creams. It was the least I could have.

 

"Hey, didn't I see you at Planned Parenthood the other week?" said a voice from behind me. I turned around and saw a girl with pink highlights and a beanie, walking beside me.

 

"My name is India," she said. "I just work at the front desk there. I hope everything is okay."

 

I nodded, and replied, "Thanks."

 

I walked on and hoped she wouldn't follow, but she did. My heart beating and worried about the potential rumors and gossips, and all types of heartaches stabbing my back. "Please don't say anything to anyone," I told her.

 

"No, no, no that's not me at all," said India. "I just wanted to say hello. I go to Monarch, too."

 

She smiled and her pink hair softens her dark eyes. The rest of her hair was black but I saw tendrils of pink underneath her beanie, as if she was an anime girl.

 

"I worked there since freshmen year. I'm a senior. You're Mary, right? Jack's girl?" asked India. "I remember you."
 
"Not anymore, we broke up," I replied. Trying to hide my tears.

 

"It happens," said India. "I'm sorry. I hope you know that you'll meet someone else, right?"

 

I turned to her, and smiled. She just knew how to say the right things, and had the sweetest touch.

 

"Why did you go to PP?" India asked. 

 

"Personal, sorry," I said. 

 

"There is a rumor, that Jack's been sleeping around. I wanted to caution you," said India. "Guys...they think they're all smooth, but we girls know to watch out for each other."

 

I cried inside but without tears outside. I kept walking and walked to Monarch when I decided to go to PP today, and find out the test results. 

 

"Hey, India. I have an appointment at PP, so go ahead without me," I said.

 

"Hey, I can call for you," India said. "I don't think it matters, but you can also just walk in."

 

I stayed silent.

 

"Hey, listen, there are a lot of us without guidance. PP helps too, they have some programs for teens with no mental health counseling and they can help with that and also help you in case you get pregnant. Not everything resorts to abortion," said India. "They make sure they have the right choice for you, is all."

 

I cried and sobbed inside and I felt my chest jolt and my tears began to flow out.

 

India hugged me, eventhough I didn't ask for a hug.

 

"I'm not sure what to tell you, but if you need to find out, right now is the best time," said India.

 

I turned around and walked about 6 miles it felt like. I was so broken inside and wanted to puke but I kept swallowing it in. I did vomit in the middle of the way and just went behind the bushes. I was scared I was pregnant and I was scared I had PID. I ignored the STD stuff at school when they taught it during sex education, and it wasn't even sex education, it was biology. They had some nurse from the general hospital come and talk about it. Then the state department of health came with some samples and pictures of what that looked like. They said it was supposed to make us feel scared and wanted to give us precaution, but I was so in love with Jack that I just wanted to jump him. I guess it made me aware but it would have been better if they had some guy with HIV come to speak to us. That will scare the shit out of me.

 

When I got to Planned Parenthood, Jasmine wasn't there. The nurse came out to see me, and sat me down in the small room.

 

"We need to talk to you. I am glad you came back. We need to speak to you about what happened. Jasmine gave me an update but your tests came out positive for all of it. STD and Pregnancy," she said. "What would you want to do."

 

I cried to pieces. I must have stayed there for an hour, talking to her about how much I loved Jack.

 

"Mary, what do you want to do in life?" she asked. Her name was Gretchen.

 

"I don't know," I told her.

 

"I want you to take the day off, and go to school, and tell your Father, and then come to us tomorrow to talk about it," said Gretchen.

 

Seth, tonight, I might end my life. This might be my last letter. I don't want to get an abortion.

Gretchen gave me some pills and I took it. She said that if I had PID, I might have lost the baby. 

I need proof. I'm dumb, Seth. It was all my fault. I know my life is ruined now. I won't amount to anything.

 

I want to die, tonight.

WishesOoohWshes.

 

 

 

March 30, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 
I feel better now. I felt so alone last night and I wanted to end my life, but I thought of all the people who would show up at my funeral and it was even more depressing that I started laughing. It would be just a man on a piano and my Dad, singing "I will never love again," and who knows...maybe William or Mabel might come but knowing their background, their parents won't let them go to a funeral at their age.

I thought of the things inside my heart and the potential I possess, and I wonder what it would amount to if I only applied myself. I work at T-Bell very well but I don't do well under pressure at school. I think I'm Jack crazy but isn't that normal?

 

I wanted to run away last night and to come see you in New York, and to just stop school, stop work, and stop living in this house and live on my own and find my dream. What is my dream, and even if I know, I don't know if I would be able to make it. I want to see if I would, but I don't even know what I want. At least you knew about what you want out of life at an early age, but I don't. I just know I want to be loved and to have true love, and someone who holds me close and never let go. Does everyone know what they want at 16 years old?

 

I observe the people around me and most adults are married, but my Dad isn't. It troubles me. He had problems and both of my parents had problems, and now I have problems. I think that's why I wanted to end it all, but I won't. I promise. I feel like my life is a long shot to success. I don't know what to do.

 

I'm going to think of a way out,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

March 31, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I wish everyone are pomegranates, because it's one of my favorite fruits. Sometimes people are not as sweet as they seem to be. Who are they? It is okay to be smart, but to become so ruthless, it all seems so worthless. Jack for instance. I am escaping my thoughts of him and pretending I'm next to you, eating a pomegranate and drinking and Izze.

 

I think you need to write a book, Seth. I want happy, for everybody, especially me! You can describe what type of fruit you are and I will think of you as the sweetest kinds. I need to believe that people are good, and some are inspirational, that's why I look up to you and love seeing you on television. I escape through you. Other stars are okay and I see a lot of talents, that some give their lives to reach it, but sometimes people lose their way, and maybe that's where the bitterness comes from. Maybe they are all bitter to begin with because someone was mean to them, the way Jack was mean to me.

 

I am so happy you gave your life to make people laugh, because happiness helps everyone at any levels in life. You help me to release several moments to smile and laugh out loud in a day, and that could increase the life expectancy for anybody. This is how I think you saved me. Can you save my life some more and write a book to love me back?

 

In your book, you should describe if you were ever the long shot. The person without a chance for the one dream he has, because as a woman, my gender alone could reduce my chance in life. But this is 2010, and I want to read a book that makes me laugh, especially because there were probably moments of "long-shots" in your life, which could empower me.

 

What was it that made the difference in your life? Who is your mentor? Was there a blind side? How did you move your life from a kid to a man?

Was there an "I don't know," or an "I don't care," or an "I miss you" in your life? How many defining moments do you remember? Do you listen to every voice you hear? Or do you take every chance you got, because you know how to make something out of nothing. Where do you shop? What do you eat? I LOVE POMEGRANATES!!

 

Do you know love when you see it? How do you love? Have you ever had to admit you've lost something so dear? How much did you give up? Are there a bunch of words you hate? What's your anger language? What's your habitual sin? How did you break your sins apart and tear down its walls? How do you believe in yourself, in this world when sometimes long-shots like me live in uncertainties.

What if there is construction in life, and all the lanes are closed and you will be fined if you stop? What could people do to succeed when the talent is there, but the opportunity is scarce and barren. Who do you listen to?

 

I suppose I want to know because I am the long shot, and I want to believe. I look up to heaven, but there are times when evidence is something I still need to feel. We can be a bunch of long shots in life, but some are just so inspirational and joyful that everyone just want to feel their hearts, and be inspired. You maybe that person for me, the inspiration, and I think you made me laugh so much that you probably increased my life expectancy for another 100 years. You are so nice! But, I know that long-shots are sometimes the best people in life, because they are the heart felt surprise you'll find unforgettable.

 

Could you write a book for me? Think of it as a science project!
 
WishesOoohWishes

 

 

April 1, 2010.

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

I finally came back to school. It's a Wednesday, the day when the Earth moves under my feet every time. Do you remember that song, Seth? I found out from Brenda, because she was born in 1980. I was born in 1994 and I actually feel so much older than 16. It feels surreal to have had so much happened to you at such a young age, but that's what Chlamydia does to people, I guess.

 

I'm okay for now. I don't want to end my life because I want to talk to Jack still and I don't want my Dad to be alone. I know he has Brenda but I don't want him to relapse back to alcoholism.

 

I took the meds Jasmine gave me and I spoke to my counselor and they both said something similar. Study. That's all they said. They told me the only way out was through education and it gives opportunities. I'm shit out of luck, Seth. I'm failing every class I am taking. Math is crap to me, and so is English and History. Who cares what people did in the past? I want to get on out of the past of my life, and I damn well don't want to know theirs.

 

The only thing I liked was "Honesty is the best policy," by Abraham Lincoln. Did he think that up all by himself, you think, Seth? There aren't a lot of people back then when he was alive was there? They're all probably enslaved or in the army. At least that's what William told me.

 

I talked to William at school today and talked to him about PP and suicide. He was flabbergasted. I love that word "Flabbergasted." It feels like a fart that just escaped out of your butt. But yeah, William was flabbergasted. He told me about being in the dark. No shit, I was in the dark and I didn't need William to tell me but he did anyway.

 

William told me that when a person is in the dark, that's all they can see and they can't see a way out. I sometimes don't know if William is smart or not because what he told me was obvious to anyone. But anyway, he said something about how everything you do is wrong and the only thing that can take out of the dark is the light. Again....I'm not sure if William should solve anyone's problems anytime soon, but it was good to know that he was being obvious. I think it does help me a little. I mean....I want to see the light too, because apparently I'm darkness, and I think William is trying to say that he is the light to my darkness. I nodded the whole time, but my heart and mind was confused because I don't know what he's alluding to. No one ever cared to say these things, but now that someone did, I'm not all that impressed.

 

 
What light was I missing, Seth? Should I start reading self help books and such? Why??? I am going to take meds and go to school and try things out for myself. I'm going to wing it. I don't want to tell anyone I'm taking meds and I'm only taking them because my counselor prescribed them to me after my Dad told that he wants me on them when Mom left. I'm screwed up, Seth. I don't even know how to begin to introduce myself to you when we meet.

 

I hope we will meet,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

April 2, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I couldn't stop crying this morning. I don't know why. I can't write to you today, Seth. I just cried and cried as if a fountain of tears burst from the back of my brains and out of my eyes. My mind was full of the visions of the rough sex that happened under the bleachers with Jack. I'm scared.

 

I want to tell Dad but he would be angry and I know he would hurt Jack. I know Jack will get shot and my Dad will go to jail. I didn't tell William or Mabel. I saw them at school, but I kept quiet. I did not look anyone in the eyes. The kids at school stared at me, but I dodged them. I saw them whisper but I stopped caring. I know they would call me names like 'slut,' or 'whore.' I know they all laugh at me, but I'm going to be tough and still keep going.

 

I'm worried about my heart, however. It feels broken and I never had a broken heart before. Jack is my first everything. My first kiss, my first boyfriend, and the sad thing is....I know I am probably the last thing in his mind. He's the first thing in my heart and mind when I come to school, but I know I mean nothing to him. It hurts that I gave my all to someone who would never care for me. Are adults the same, Seth? They must be smarter right?

 

William tried to find me when I was walking home. He said he met my Dad's friend from his Knights of the Columbus group. He said that they are becoming liberal. I don't know anything about them. I wanted to slap him. I want him to stop talking to me. I hate his talks about Knights of the Columbus and the light, and good side of life, and how he wants me to do good. No one is good. I thought Jack was good, but it's not true. I think William is in some kind of cult or something. He's crazy. He told me that I have to keep up with my meds and counseling, but I think he's the one that's getting worse. Who is he to judge me?

 

Mabel is a bitch. She has everything. She has a car, a good home, she's pretty and she doesn't have to work for a living to make ends meet. I have to pay the rent and the bills, and my money from T-Bell goes to Dad and we pool them to make sure we have a place to live. Mabel doesn't have to worry about that. She's a bitch.
  

I'm really hating them, those perfect people. I'm really starting to see the light that William talked about. The light shows me that everything is bullshit. This life is bullshit, and the thing that happened to me under the bleachers is bullshit. I'm going to just try to solve things with my counselor. Then take my meds. That's all I need.

 

I'm superwoman,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

 

April 5, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

It's really more than revulsion of life that I am writing out these letters to you, but for the purpose of healing. Who knew that writing is coping? And to love a writer like you, Sethy, it's bliss and candies.

 

I hope you realize the power of your influence on my heart, because you've moved my life from the opprobrium to subtle glory. It is not about my faulty ideals anymore, it is more of release to gain strength, because somehow, I can empty out all of those bad horoscope readings on my past and replace it with some good astrology.

 
There is more depth to me now, because after I release all of my angers on paper about my misfortunes, I feel the energies of those who've experienced similar dramas. It's all there, and I have to just take those energies out to replace them with some form of wisdom of profound truth, from what I've learned through my own disgraces. I am so grateful you are not mad at me, otherwise I would feel sad about my life, if I my heart throb is actually disgusted by me. You are so patient Seth Meyers, and the more I write to you, the more I realize you are forever gorgeous and I am forever in love with you.

 

Don't worry about what others will think about you because some high school kid is nuts about you, when I'm underage and you're over the thirties hump. I'm just an old soul and I feel like I've known you all of my life. I used to think I you look like an old neighbor names Udi, but he's long gone and married now and he's nothing like you.

 

I feel better today but there are still bouts of anger and it hurts me. I still have thoughts of the bleachers and my Dad is still not here and Brenda sometimes comes around. But, everything feels fleeting. Everything, even life. I feel like my life will end early, because at this rate, after the rape and the episode at Planned Parenthood, I'm going to be shot somehow at T-Bell by an Italian. Don't get mad at me because of these morbid thoughts, because what kind of positive moments in life have I had lately? None.

 

In pain, truthfully,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

April 6, 2010

 

To The Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night LIve,

 

I want to be like William, minus the facial hair and chubby body. He told me today that Seth, you're his hero too, and I immediately love him as a brother. I gave him a hug and told him that he's my friend for life.  He then told me about this group that he saw my Dad's friend, Sam, is in, The Knights of the Columbus. William told me that if I needed his help and Sam's help, to come to him, and to ask him for help. 

 

I don't want to tell anyone about the assault and as a matter of fact, Jack, is no in my mind unless I get symptoms of my depression again. It hurts when I get it because I can't stop crying and I hurl and vomit. I don't tell anyone and I try to slice my wrist with my nails, but we all know that's not real, so I just play it cool and let it go. I don't let anyone tell me what to do anymore. I don't trust anyone and even my Dad doesn't care. I have to make sure rent is paid and we have a roof over our head, because Dad hasn't been around lately and neither has Brenda. I'm worried something is wrong and he's going to be depressed and lose his job this time. I don't want to be homeless.

 

I tried to speak to India, the girl who told me about Jack and how she knew. I tried to ask a couple of people and I called Mabel, to see if she'd know. I still hate all the princesses of my high school. They have everything and I work at T-Bell. I was dumped by Jack and those girls are virgins and they've never even been kissed. 

 

Hindsight, I regret it all, Sethy. I regret wanting to be kissed by Jack and wanting to sleep with him. I regret wanting to have sex with him, and wanting to be a part of his life. I regret everything. Sometimes the sorrow is so full over my head that I can't handle it. 

 

I don't know India's number and I don't know if anyone will talk to me about Jack. I can't call Mabel, she'll tell my homeroom teacher or the principal and I'll get Jacked. No pun intended.

 

Lost for words,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

April 7, 2010

 

To The Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I thought about the millionaires of the world, and how satisfied they are with their lives, with a degree or without a degree. Are they satisfied with who they are and what they've done, especially after their pursuits of happiness? Do they all have true love?

 

Have they made themselves, whom they become in all honesty? Have they fumbled the ways of life, on the road to success? Were they millionaires by birth? The truth is, I am the millionaire of love, and I suppose that love was what I want to also seek, but I'm a poor woman in faith. I have none, and i don't think I will survive this life.

 

Maybe because my dream, hopes, and its level of success does not have a monetary value, because it is priceless in comparison to ambitious money. It is measured and based on my personal desires of having a family, beautiful career, and lasting friendships. Does this ambition come with a picket fence with a rose garden and a Mercedes Benz? Why not? Why not go beyond and reach the sky?

 

Besides, this scale is an innate gift, the one my Dad told me to develop in life.  Yes, I think it could be a measure of the education I can gain, or naturally and through nurture. This is why going to school is best for me, and I am happy to know I am not the only one with this desire, hope, or measurable scales of ambition. But, with Jack in high school....education is a misfortune at this time, Seth.

 

The other girls at school have some form of a walnut like brain inside their psyche, but me...I'm just a walnut. They may not be a pistachio like me, but they have the same level of peanuty flavor, with a slightly salty tasty to them. Some people have this flavor of opinions from that walnut of a brain they have, so raw that's perfectly tasty, and noticeably delicious to its element. It is unmistakably them, and it is their signature taste, with a delicious presentation for accompaniment. They have someone who cares for them. My life is non-existent to a lot of people, and the only person who said he cared was William and The Planned Parenthood nurses. I'm just a plain nut, and the pistachio dream is unreal, Sethy. 

 

I want to be this exceptionally rare beauty, until the world is enchanted through me. This desire only comes out when I'm writing to you, because in reality, I am a huge mess and I'm going nuts.

 

Wondered if you wrote love notes in class,

WishesOoohWishes ------ß--@

 

 

 

April 8, 2010

 

To The Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I called Jack. He hung up. I vomited and Dad heard me. Surprisingly he was home and it seems like he was having a serious talk with Brenda. I know Dad is supposed to be sober now, but I've seen him and Brenda having a couple of beers sometimes, and I don't write down when, but I know that's not right. But, who am I to tell him what to do? I'm sick myself.

 

Jack was all inside my chest today, and school was a Jackass, no pun intended. I'm tired of going there and I want to leave the planet. I don't want to stay at school, and I want to search for you. I want to visit you at the Rockefeller Plaza and meet you in person and kiss you on your lips, even if you're sick. I won't tell anyone if you reject me, even. That's how crazy I am about you. I know your girlfriend is beautiful and I predict you will have three kids, two boys and a girl. It's 2010 now, and I'm not sure how long until you're going to get hitched and make babies, but I'm going to make a go at it. I don't know what to do with my rape trauma. Everyday it is worse. I vomit all the time and I'm not eating. I don't want to, and I don't want to go back to the Planned Parenthood, they'll just call my counselour.

 

I'm having a nervous breakdown I think, is that possible at 17? I'm not sure if this is what it is called? Is my nerves taking the best of me and me crying in a fetal position in the girl's bathroom a nervous breakdown? Because that was all day today at school, and I escaped again. I ran out of the school double doors and I didn't look back. That place is hell on Earth. I shouldn't have gone. I want to leave!

 

Planning to drop out,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

 

April 9, 2010

 

To The Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

If I was an "I Love you," in bubble letters, I would be the colors of Royal Blue Letters with hearts all across the words Love. It symbolizes my royal heart of a princess and the depth of love all throughout the color lines. William asked me why I wanted to date Jack or to have a relationship with him.  My answer was because baby lobsters could only mate once when it grows up, so it better have the perfect match.

 

I wished people could just see how I loved them, and at times they probably won't understand why I loved the way I love. But, love was love and people were stupid.

 

Some people wanted me to love them a certain way, and I would try to do so, but the fact was, I've gone through what I call, …shit hole.

 

For example: there were letters I wrote to you, Seth, and it was all angry words. All SHH8T this, and all F6%! That…but they never made it in print, because I wanted to say the things I wrote without restrictions. Then I realized, it was just like the way people wanted me to love them a certain way, and I didn't understand. If we were to meet, I think you would want me to write nice things about people, not shit this and shit that because I would get sued and you would get sued for teaching me flagrant things. But, I was in a shit hole. So I wrote shit-holish things.

 

So, the stresses came out and the frustration level rose to headache level. I just wished I could control every thing to minty lavender and happy basil all the time when I'm writing to you, but I was so hurt that I could not understand my own love for you. I just kept writing and writing verbage I knew you wouldn't like it. As all writers know, it was okay and it will be edited out later, but with me, because I was not a writer, I wrote these shit down and I didn't care.

 

It wasn't so perfect with the ways of my life, Seth. I hope you didn''t care about my deep emotional traumas.  I felt it was always my fault, these overwhelming emotions, because I was the cause of the rape and Jack was just following his nerves. 

 

I wanted to make it stop, this emotions and headaches, to leave lonely planet to make the heartaches stop. I wished you were here to comfort me, and I wished you were my neighbor. Then the cries ceased to tear, and my heart healed itself to love.

 

I was just trying to heal and love, but there were cacophonies and commotions in the background ruining moments with or without Diet Coke.  I wished I could explain this further, but my heart was breaking and I wished I had some people back in my life again.

 

Unconditionally a loving fan,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

 

April 10, 2010

 

To The Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

My Dad had a rough night, and he said he broke it off with Brenda because his AA Group noticed he's been doing wrong and drinking after work.  Sam came by and told us to seek a family counselour. He said he's sober now and he's doing good with The Knights of the Columbus and asked my Dad to join. My Dad said, "What a be a crazy prick with pins on their shirts? No, thanks, bud. I gotta go to AA on my own."

 

I didn't blame him, and I didn't blame Sam either. I wanted to tell William to stop telling Sam what to do because I knew why William tells Sam to help out, it's because William was afraid I would drop out and become a homeless teen. I wasn't going that route. I was going to see if I could do better. I will turn this shit around. I was tougher than they thought. 

 

I will try to find out what I could do with myself. I felt really messed up, Seth. My headaches were monstrous and I was not on the pill. I was worried I really was pregnant. I hoped my period stayed regular. I haven't checked. If I got pregnant, I won't know what to do with myself. I was sick to my stomach and all I could think about was being with Jack and being in a marriage with him and everything was perfect and we both have careers and a dog and two kids. I was psycho I think. I thought of how perfect life would be with him, when in reality was that Jack raped me.

 

I have to stop and just watch SNL. I will write tomorrow or in a day or so. I was so sick, I couldn't write.

 

I'm delusional and I feel sick,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

April 12, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I went to Planned Parenthood and talked to the nurses and they said I might have a very serious case of PID. They gave me some meds and I took them, but it got worse because I was pregnant. I became suicidal. I wanted to die, Seth, and I didn't want to tell anyone in case they would call the police on me. My Dad didn't know that I have an appointment to abort in a couple of days. I stayed away from school because the pain in my pelvic was so raw and rough on me that I couldn't even sit down. 

 

I got PID from Jackass Jack, because I was not sexually active with anyone, and I supposed he was sleeping with someone else, and I didn't want to know who. I was so terrified right now because I was worried I wasn't going to get shot by an Italian at T-Bell but that my groin would grow bacteria and I would die of an infection (which was more realistic if you asked me). But, in all honesty, I wished Jack would get shot by an Italian in his bathroom on his toilet while taking a dump so all his shit would show. I was really hurt by him because I wanted true love but I got an STI instead. I wished I could tell you what it felt like, because I would bet that you never knew how it felt to be me. I bet you were the type who got the girls, but you didn't let them touch you because you were polished and high class, unlike me who was a daughter of an alcoholic who didn't even remember my birthday. It was this past Sunday, and I spent it at Planned Parenthood. 

 

If I could express my emotions to you at this time, it would just be tears in a bottle. I read somewhere that God collects tears inside a bottle and that every soul has a jar and if it was filled up, then God would start another jar. Somehow that fact hurt me, because I believed it and I knew God was watching, but I screwed myself over and I bet Jack only has a tiny tube instead of a bottle because he was a prick and he didn't care about me. He hung up and I couldn't call him anymore because I didn't want to get sued by his rich parents for stalking him or harassment. 

 

Seth, I might have more than one jar of tears. I was so worried because how many jars would I have to cry in my life time, if I was this sick and raped by 18? Do you think I would have a long life? I know you were not with me, but if you were in front of me, would you hurt yourself? I wanted to end it all. 

 

I couldn't handle it, so I took the Zoloft prescribed by the Nurse Practitioner at PP,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

April 13, 2010.

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I took a few Zoloft again and it made me feel sort of numb but I had a nice dream.

 

It was Valentine's Day, and I was in this dream in some unknown town in Europe, with you. It was the day of the LOVE CARNIVAL. All streets in the Europe, whether cobbled, pebbled, or paved filled with people, friends and families, especially children with heart pins on their proper attire of their choice to attend this carnival. We saw in social media that Japan and China, then Singapore and Russia were starting to do it too, but in their time zones. 

 
Each person nearby us received a little heart token to meet a real prince or a princess of their choice, with the condition to accept or reject any invitations with the eyes of love, and to honor each person offering their hearts. The scents of my favorite citrus fruits, and jasmine emanating in the air from all of the granulated tea satchets, were sold in every corner of the huge square blocks of the carnival.

 
There were open carriages with plump cupids with wings, holding signs with such beautiful messages, "Love, the non-perishable item!" Or "You are made to last forever!" There were roars from people with each message, and as each carriage passes by, sparkly heart confettis were thrown in the air, and it was a beautiful day.

People were meeting each other, and new friendships were formed. No one was left behind and nothing would harm anything; and Seth Meyers, in this dream, you were the King of the Carnival. There were Love Festivals, or Love Parades all across the world held in the cities of your choice. All heart shaped decors were out of stock, red balloons had a waiting list, and for some reason, there were kiwis everywhere! Everything sweet was at the carnival, and every kind of candy shops had a booth. All types of fairies were there, all kinds of fairy god-mothers, gothic fairies, pretty fairies, or tooth fairies walked around with their wands and their wings, and every woman wore a tiara. There was a violinist playing Vivaldi's Four Season, and later on, a guitarist, strumming Eric Clapton! Amor de machina!!!

 
I witnessed a miracle, because for one day, everyone was in love and everyone was kind to one another. Forgiveness won, and I was laughing and happy. No matter how much pain was done, for one whole day, everything spelled L-O-V-E!!! Of course, the hot air balloon had to be there with little puppies inside, ready for some soul to take them home, and yes, there was a cotton candy machine, complete with a clown who sold each bubblegum flavored cotton candy to someone like me, who was in love with King of the Carnival, Seth Meyers. For some reason, all of my missing pieces inside my heart from Jack's rape were gone, and my dreams came true.

 
Have you ever held a carnival like this before, Seth? Anywhere? Maybe you could do this for Valentine's day, just once a year, for everyone, everywhere!!!! LOVE, LOVE, LOVE!!!

 

I just want you to be on everything!!! With ZOLOFT coating,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

April 14, 2010.

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I went, and I aborted. I wanted to die, because it was like killing my own heart. I vomited and the nurses held my hand and the nurse practitioner who helped me abort told me that it was risky to have the baby because of the PID. I was severely depressed when they put me in sedation and they said that I came out with tears in my eyes.

 

I couldn't stop crying and the nurses wanted to take me to the emergency room, at a proper hospital, but I told them that I took a few days off from T-Bell and I would have to take a few days off some more, and I couldn't take a month off. If I were to be taken as inpatient, I'd have to be at the hospital for at least a couple of months and William will be telling everyone that I was sick and it was because of Jack. 

 

I called William, but I didn't tell him anything. I told him that I won't graduate this year and I would be dropping out. I won't go to prom and I won't go to any dances and I asked him to pray for me. He cried. He said, "Jack is wrong to you. What happened?" But, I couldn't tell him. William might be the only person I could trust, but I still couldn't tell him. I didn't even tell Dad. He asked me where I was the whole day because I came back in the evening, holding my stomach with a brown bag of meds and I inhaled them immediately, along with the anti-depressants. I wanted to dream like last night again. I wanted to dream that I was in a Love Carnival.

 

I wanted to dream, all the time. I wanted to go away. I wanted to start over, but I didn't know how. 

I needed to find you, and I wanted to go to New York, with the bus or take the subway there. It wasn't far and I heard some people say that you walked to work. Maybe, we could have coffee and I could walk with you on your way to the Rockfeller Plaza and you could give me a pep-talk about boys and why they hurt me.

 

I wished you could tell me why Jack would rape me and not even talk to me afterwards. I wished you could tell me why Jack would hurt my life at all, knowing how much I was crazy about him. I wished you have all of the answers. I wished you were my big brother, maybe my life would be better.

 

You're my hero, Seth, and my imaginary big brother,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

April 15, 2010

 
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers, of Saturday Night Live,

 
I believe there was always a reason a person is placed in the middle of life. Sometimes, to harness the wind, and at times just to make you smile, even for a speck of time. You made me smile, Seth Meyers, and I thank you. I met plenty people, but for some reason, as anyone could identify with, only a handful came to mind. Statistically, it was impossible for anyone to be in anyone's mind at the same time, especially for a poignant purpose in life. This role was not for just anyone to fill, and this person may be an Oscar winner of an actor, but people would know their real characters, it comes with time. I believed in you, Seth Meyers, and your character, although in public view, you could make anyone smile. Congratulations, you were a beautiful comedian and a gorgeous actor. I was extremely proud.

 
If you were wondering who the people who harnessed the wind for me were? They were the people who were in my position, the people who loved you. They didn't know how profound their lives were, because I understood how they admired and their reason for inspiration. I believed, sometimes we needed a good person to look at, and to remind ourselves, that we were as tasteful, delightful, and beautiful as they were. There was comfort in affinity and also, we sometimes just wanted to smile, and laugh, OUT LOUD!!! Sometimes, that's all we need.

 
There were others, the ones who just made you cry and filled you with the fuzziest, warmest, and most genuine heart felt emotion to move you. I wanted to be one of those people, and I wished for others to learn and become that person too, as I was learning myself. I wanted to make a difference in my own life, and I was happy there were others who did make a difference in my life, without even knowing. There was always a reason for everything, and if there weren't, maybe the reason would show up with time. I hope all those reasons were so good, that everyone could make it in life, just like you, Seth Meyers. Maybe, out of the millions of people who loved you, someone could learn to be as profound. Then they would be the inspiration for someone else, as you were to me.

 
I know I want to.

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

April 16, 2010.

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I stayed home and Dad was upset because I didn't go to school. I told him that I needed time and space and to take my time to think and he lost it. He threw the gin bottle in the sink and it shattered. He said his life was a piece of shit and he didn't know how to fix it. Dad was afraid that I turned into him. He said he wanted me to go to college, but I didn't want to right now. I wasn't in the right mindset.

 

I just aborted and I needed time to think. I was still bleeding out of my womb.

 

If my Dad threw me out of the house, I was going to take all of my money in my bank account and go to New York CIty and stay at a shelter somewhere. 

 

My stomach felt like it has a screwdriver stirring my intestines. It hurts and I couldn't walk. I never knew my first time having sex would be at Breckenridge and I was going to be raped because of it and had to abort. I felt those jars of tears were filling up fast, Seth. I cried, and it has been really hard on me. I got an anxiety attack and a panic attack because I didn't know how to control my fears. I had a dream that Jack was going to take me to court if I reported him. 

 

You probably think of me as a coward for not reporting, but I wished you knew how rich Jack was compared to me. Plus, I asked for it, and I got rape because I was turning him on. I deserved it, Seth. I was the fuck up. I took an extra Zoloft tonight, and if I don't wake up, you will know why. 

 

Thank God I would never send these letters to you. You'd probably report me, too. 

 

I am garbage,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

April 18, 2010

 

To The Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

For the past two days I've been worried, and fearful that I almost ended my life again. I wanted to swallow the Zoloft but I loved my Dad too much to leave him. My Mom left him and I couldn't do the same. I didn't tell my Dad why I was in bed the whole weekend. I didn't write and I didn't talk to anyone, even William, who I would usually call or meet at school. I decided to drop out and I will tell my Dad about the abortion because he has to know and perhaps he can help me get my GED and I can transfer to a community college in Jersey. 

 

I have so much fears inside of me about my life, Seth, that I didn't know what to do. I was paralyzed by FEAR, and it was eating me alive. I had a dream last night that I was homeless and my Dad threw me out of the house because he was so disappointed and called me a slut. That he didn't want me to drop out and he was going to force me to go back to high school. Please don't tell my Dad anything if one day I sent these letters and you felt responsible or got scared because I was a maniac.

 

I promise my love for you was harmless. The way I see you was how I feel about Mountain Turtles, and I viewed everything you do with loving eyes. You would never disappoint me. You did well in life, Seth, and even if you somehow became a talk show host, I'd even be more proud, but I won't promise you that I would be alive or be able to watch your show every night.

 

For some reason I felt my life would be short and I was so worried about it. I won't know if I was destined to be raped or that God had a plan for me to learn something from it, but I still won't understand why it had to happen to me. 

 

Remember those jars of tears? I won't know how many jars God decided I would get to determine my strength. I was so fearful and so worried. I was so scared that I won't see tomorrow because of how I want to die today. Some days, the fear becomes so painful and I felt like I've killed someone because of the abortion. 

 

I did it because I didn't know if I could be strong enough as a Mom. My Mom wasn't strong enough for me and she left. She went out with someone else and left me and my Dad and never came back even once to check how I was doing. I wished you and I met when I was little so you can show me the ropes. What to learn and how to be strong and how to face my own fears, even when I didn't have a Mom during Mother's Day.

 

I remembered at school, everyone had a Mom, and I cried to pieces because no one made my lunch, instead I had a snack bar from my Dad and it was my lunch for a very long time. I was still hungry and I didn't ask for help, but I was so scared and I didn't know what to do. I tried to play outside but it didn't work out. I would stay in and just put my foot under the sun, because perhaps my feet will have a mind of their own and would take me to different places. But, it took me to the bleachers because I was just searching for the love that I never had. I wished you were my big brother, perhaps I would be full of brotherly love that I won't have to search for it.

 

I wished you were here,

WishesOoohWishes (Your little sis, Mary).

 

 

 

April 19, 2010

 

To The Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I told my Dad and my dream came true. 

 

"You're irresponsible and dumb!" he said to me in the morning after he came home from work. He was tired and he said he needed something to eat, but I told him to sit down and to breathe. When I told him that I needed to take time off from school, his eyes became wide and he looked wild.

 

"You can't! Who would supervise you at home? Are you at least going to work at Taco Bell?" he asked.

 

"No, Dad, I will have to take time off and relax.and heal," I said.

 

"You should stay busy. Heal from what?" he asked me. He had no clue what happened. I began to cry and tears were sobbing out without my knowledge. I didn't  know I was sobbing until I tried to talk and I couldn't. 

 

"I had an abortion, Dad," I told him.

 

His eyes that were wide became moist and turned red and he was speechless. His mouth was open for a little while and I asked him, "Are you okay. Say something...," I said.

 

"That's a crime," said my Dad. "You could have gotten benefits with a child."  His thoughts went directly to benefits and money and it was the last thing I thought he'd say.

 

"What happened?" he asked. 

 

I tried to say "rape," but nothing came out. 

 

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!" he screamed at me.

 

"Jack and I had rough sex behind the bleachers," I answered.

 

"You're dumb!" he said. "That was a dumb move."

 

"I didn't ask for the sex. It just happened," I said in sobs with my upper lips covered in mucuous from the snot out of nose flowing down.

 

"Yes, you did. You did this to yourself," said Dad, the only man who I really cared for. I didn't have anyone else in this world, and my dysfunctional relatives won't be any help, so I slumped down to the floor and cried.

 

"Playing dead now? That was your move when you were little. It won't work this time. This time you have to fix your mistakes. It was a slutty move, and now you're in deep trouble. Where did you do it? The back alley and now you've got an STD?" he asked.

 

I shook my head and I couldn't stop crying. My head felt like it was about to explode. I wanted to ask for help from my Dad because it hurts so much. My soul hurts so much. My heart broke in pieces from Jack and now from the only man who I thought cared for me. 

 

"I didn't know what to do," I said, my voice cracked and my tears kept flowing.

 

I thought he would say something kind, but he said, "You hurt us."

 

My tears felt like a fountain pouring over my cheeks and flowing down my neck leaving drops on the floor. I wanted to end my life again. I didn't feel safe at home. I needed to leave. I wanted to go away, and find someone who would love me. I felt the whole world would hurt me and was against me. I felt a big sword behind me stuck to my back from Jack and his family, and another sword from God. I felt like a victim and I felt betrayed and so broken. What could I possibly do to fix this?

 

"You have to keep working, or you are staying in school," said my Dad.

 

"I can't. I can't show up to school with my mind like this," I said.

 

"You don't have a choice," said Dad. He walked out the door and drove off. He usually goes to sleep after his overnight shift but this time he drove off. I hope he won't be drunk when he comes home.

 

My stomach was still throbbing and I still had the diaper on from the procedure. I walked to T-Bell and talked to my manager and told him that I was ill and won't be able to work and have to quit. He had tears in his eyes because he said that he really enjoyed working with me. He said that he knew T-Bell was sort of a place of comfort for me with free burritos and cheese dips for dinner for me when I had no one to feed me. I told him, "I took out my frustrations here, and it helped. But i have new problems that has to be worked out in other ways."

 

"I understand, Mary," my manager said. I covered my face for a moment and he told me, "You're rehire-able."

 

"That means a lot to me," I replied.

 

I was so sorry,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

April 20, 2010

 

To The Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

My Dad threw me out, Seth. I came home with my stomach in a bit of a hurl and went to the bathroom to vomit. I heard a slam at the door and my Dad walked to the back towards my bedroom and screamed at the top of his lungs, "You're stupid! You should have listened to me!" Then he slammed my door when he realized I was in the bathroom and he went to where I was, and there I was lying on the bathroom floor after a few vomits, and a hurting stomach, and my Dad began to cry.

 

"I sacrificed my life for your Mom because she got pregnant. I could have finished college and had a full time career and your Mom could have found a job and helped out, but she chose to ran out on me and you and went with some asshole who had a full time career," he said. "I could have been great, and now my daughter is a failure."

 

"Dad, I tried to help out," I pleaded. "Don't say I'm a failure. I already feel bad enough."

 

I wanted to ask him for mercy and ask him for a pause in life for a pause in blaming me and blaming my whole existence. That it was my fault that my Mom got pregnant and that I was the cause of her failure and his failure. I wished I was never born. I felt worse than garbage and I felt worse and low that I couldn't possibly recover. What should I do, Seth. I am the fault in all of life. I don't want to live.

 

I went to the bedroom and slammed it and locked it. I grabbed my backpack and took a few underwears and my bank card and a sweater, my jacket and my jeans and shirts. I took my medication and the meds for the PID and you, Seth, the journal I have been writing to. My love letters to my hero. You were the last thing I wanted to lose. If I lost you, it would be another tragedy. 

 

In life, you'd probably label me a loser because here I am, 18 and losing my mind, losing my life, and losing my whole existence because I had sex once and got raped. You would probably call me garbage too, and you might not even appreciate me. That's why won't be sending you these letters. You might report me, call the police, hurt my reputation and I guess, because you're rich and a celebrity, you'd hurt me too. I wished there were nicer people in the world that I'd start believing in you.

 

I was starting to lose every warmth inside my heart and the bitterness began to hurt me more than what my Dad labelled me. I walked out and left my Dad on the couch asleep. He was drunk and he slobbered and screamed because he was drunk. I didn't want to get hurt and I didn't want to stay in my room and swallow all of my pills. So I walked out.

 

Journal Station wasn't too far and I walked there and took my bank card and paid for the MTA fare for New York. Right now I'm in the train with no plans to go home. I didn't know what to do but I knew it's 8 at night and I didn't know what to do. 

 

Clueless,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

April 21,2010

 

I've been in the train station for overnight because I didn't have enough money for a hotel room. I only had $500 in the bank. I would need it for really important things. I went to a bodega on 42nd street and got myself an orange juice. It should last me for a day with all that Vitamin C. I was thinking of getting those packed sandwiches but it cost $4 so I got an M&M and will be eating it when I take my meds. I didn't know what to do about that either. I got it prescribed to me from school and PP, and now that I wasn't in school, I wasn't sure if I could take my meds anymore. I knew I will feel the changes more and would be crying more. I didn't't know what else to do but to cry again. 

 

Sorry that I was crying again, Seth. I was not a cry baby but when I felt confused and lost and so afraid, I cry. And I have to write about it because if it stays inside my body and my brain, I would go psychotic and would try to end my life again. 

 

I think I will use my $500 for a room somewhere and get myself to a job. Maybe I couuld find a fast food place and work there like I did at T-Bell. I would walk everywhere although I hardly know New York and I didn't know what to do now that I was on my own. I was so scared that the top of my brain has chills. The back of my neck felt clenched like someone wanted to pull me down to the ground and into the Earth six feet under. I was so worried that I was supposed to die right now but I was beating around the bush and trying to not harm myself because I was confused and scared.

 

Seth, if you were in front of me, what would you tell me? I was trying to picture you talking to me, advising me and helping me, but I won't know if you'd care. If you were in front of me, Seth, I would want you to tell me that you do care about me and what happens to girls like me. Girls who didn't know any better and girls who didn't know what to do. 

 

Some people have a compass, but I never got one. Mine went with my Mom, and even my Dad lost his compass too. We both felt lost without her because I felt she was so selfish and she wanted more in life that she was willing to sacrifice us. I wished she took me with her and left Dad on his own and let him get his college degree, then perhaps I could be in a better spot. 

 

Some people have a roof over their heads, but if it wasn't for a cheap rental that my Dad and I lived in, we'd be homeless. Look what happened to me, Seth. Now I was a statistic, and I became homeless because my Dad told me I was dumb and stupid and a loser. I wanted to go to my grave, Seth, but I was afraid of death.

 

I sat on the floor of the 42nd street exit in New York and I wanted to see the Rockefeller Plaza and I wanted to see you, but my shirt was wet from my snot and I was sweaty. You wouldn't want to see me. I cried and still worried. I hope my own mind won't kill me.

 

Wishing for a better life,

WishesOoohWishes in New York.

 

 

 

 

April 24, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I lost my senses of space and time, but I knew it was April and it was the last few weeks of it. The last time I wrote to you, I had $500 in my wallet and took out all of it from the mac machine, and I met a girl at a train station who told me that she would help me. I told her if she has a sofa for me to crash in, and she told me it was okay and she lived alone.

 

We went to her apartment in Greenwich Village and it was a nice place with a nice entrance with a gate and she had a window facing a sandwich shop. She told me she wanted me to go to a local hospital and get checked in, but she can't help me further after that. I didn't want to go, and all I wanted was to go to the Rockefeller Plaza and meet you. 

 

She told me that it wasn't far and I asked her if she would be able to help me. She then asked me if she knew anyone there, and of course I said I would love to know all of the SNL cast. She asked if I was a writer and I told her that I had a working journal of you with all of my experiences. She asked me to read it and I gave it to her and she told me that this was valuable. I was wondering what she meant about that, and it turns out that she was a writer. Her name was Jamila.

 

Jamila worked for some offshore magazine in London she said, and she gets to work remotely because she is covering fashion. I believed her and judging on how her apartment looked, it was nice and I presumed she earned her monies from that job well. 

 

Long story short, I slept over on her couch and the next morning she gave me an everything bagel and cream cheese. I thought everything was okay but she asked me if she could read this journal. I told her that it was private and she offered to edit it and turn it into a book. Inside my chest was a pounding anxiety that was peeking out in twitches on my face.

 

I didn't want her to read it. 

 

"But I let you stay and you were homeless at the train station," Jamila said. "It's the least you could do."

 

"It's private and I'm not trying to turn it into a book. It's a private journal and it's not about you, how would you fit into the picture of the book if you were to write it? I'm not comfortable," I told her.

 

"Just let me read it. I won't do anything," Jamila said.

 

"Promise you won't sell it?" I said.

 

"Promise, and as a matter of fact, I will still edit it if you'd like," said Jamila.

 

So I gave her this large notebook journal type of thing with lined pages inside full of writings and scribbles and there was a penciled caricature of you in a big heart with an arrow, and of course, Alexi's name was on your shirt. I found out several days ago that you're dating. I was okay with it.

 

Jamila read some of the pages and she nearly cried. "These are really good," said Jamila. "You should really think about becoming a writer."

 

My eyes became moist and I began to cry because all I wanted to write about was about Jack and my heartbreaks and how I was assaulted. "I'm poor and my Dad is an alcoholic," I replied.

 

"Let me do something with this," said Jamila.

 

"You promised, you won't hurt me," I said.

 

"Let me bring this to my editor and we'll talk," said Jamila.

 

"I am the author of it," I said.

 

"I can help you," said Jamila.

 

So she took the journal and she said she would be back in the evening after work. I waited and waited and she came back about 8 in the evening, and I was so worried she stole my journal. 

 

"I want to publish this and we can co-author," said Jamila.

 

"It's mine, and it's worth my life," I said.

 

She persisted to tell me that her editor wanted the book and it would be published in England and it would be an offer I couldn't refuse but the author would be Jamila and I was second author, but that's not what I wanted to do with my life at this time. I wanted to meet you.

 

"Let me pay you for staying here," I said.

 

"You can't afford this place," said Jamila.  "Just work with me on the journal and we call it even."

 

"You're a swindler," I told her. My chest was pounding and I could feel my blood rising. I knew it would take work for this journal to become a reality but I wasn't about to let someone else take control of it. It was my journey. I was the author of this life.

 

"You're homeless. You will get beat up in a couple of days and no one will save you. With me, you'll get second author," said Jamila.

 

I took my wallet and gave her $100.

 

"All of it," said Jamila.

 

"What do you mean?" I said. 

 

"How much do you have in there?" asked Jamila. "I could call the cops on you, right now and send you to a mental psych ward," said Jamila.

 

"Please don't, I thought you were nice," I said.

 

"I was, and I offered you a deal that you shouldn't refuse," said Jamila.

 

"I can only give you $100," I said.

 

"All of it, however much you have in your wallet, and get the fuck out of here," said Jamila.

 

"I don't have much," I told her. I took out another $100, and she pushed me down and kicked my waist and took my wallet and all the money inside it. She then took my backpack and threw it outside the window. 

 

"Get the hell out of here, and leave your journal here," said Jamila.

 

I wanted to punch her face and I was about to, when she took my punch and she pushed my face and kicked me again and took my journal and I grabbed it away from her, and told her, "This belongs to me, and don't hurt me. I didn't do anything," I screamed.

 

"Bitch, get the hell out of here, and give me your wallet, of I'll call the cops for breaking and entering," said Jamila.

 

I knew the cops won't believe the homeless girl, so I took my journal and left her apartment as she slammed the door on my face and I walked out and took my backpack and left Greenwich Village. I didn't know where I was when I left, but I knew that the sandwich shop was across the street. 

 

I told the guy at the sandwich shop and he said, "You're dumb. You should have kicked her ass. You're out of luck."

 

I just lost my cool and started screaming at him, "You bastard! I just told you that I was hurt and you called me names, you asshole!"

 

He then got out of the counter line and told me, "You need to get out or I'll call the cops and I'll have you sent to jail for disturbing an establishment and harassing me."

 

I cried and ran out with my backpack with the journal on my chest, and walked to a nearby wall around the corner. I just sobbed. This all happened in the span of two days and I just wanted to end my life. 

 

But, the whole time, the bitch writer's words lingered in my head, "You should really think about becoming a writer." For some reason I took it as a lesson to not trust anyone, and to not trust even the kindest soul who told you to trust them. If a person was to be trusted, they would earn it and they'd show they are worthy of trust. I found out. They won't say, Trust me, I'm trustworthy. But, it was too late. I lost all of my savings to save my journal and my dignity and myself. I would rather "die that to have the bitch publish it under her name. This journey was mine and mine alone. I was the author of my life.

 

 

 

April 26, 2010.

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Sorry for the long break. I needed it. It felt like a couple of days had gone by, but as I said, I lost my senses of space and time because everything was about numbers and years and times and I just hate it. I just wanted to be lost in space, but then I'd be a space cadet, so I decided to take another break from writing to you just to recollect my mind.

 

I walked by the 9/11 memorial and it was already built. I slept on the bridge of it, where it connects to the street. I figured it was monitored and a lot of people always walked by, so I took a six hour nap there and it was freezing but I had my jacket and used my backpack as a pillow. An officer walked by and woke me up. 

 

"You're mighty young to be sleeping on the street," said the Police Officer. "Can we talk for a minute?"

 

"I'm sorry officer, I didn't want to be home anymore. I was asaulted," I said. 

 

"By a parent? Your dad?" he asked. I looked at his eyes and he looked kind, a tall black man with big eyes, a little on the husky side.

 

"No, it was an ex-boyfriend. My Dad is an alcoholic. He doesn't know I'm here," I said. 

 

"Come with me for a minute and we'll get you settled in, I won't do anything. I just need to help you get off the street," he said. 

 

"If you know of a shelter or a place to stay, officer. I'd stay there," I said. 

 

"Why are you holding that book to your chest like that?" asked the officer.

 

"This is my SNL journal," I said. "I write to Seth Meyers almost every day."

 

"Ooooohhhhh.....Saturday night live," he said. "I see.....you're a huge fan I see."

 

"Since I was little, officer. Do you know Seth?" I asked him, hoping he would take me to officially become a guest to the Rockefeller Plaza and finally become an SNL audience.

 

"No, of course not," he said, with a smile. "You know....they're real people, and they have real lives. But, I don't think they'd let anyone to be their friends. They're sort of....celebrities."

 

I felt my eyes drooped down and faced the asphalt. I knew my dreams of the SNL cast as the nicest people on Earth was probably out of reach and perhaps unreal. I should have known that you were all celebrities and won't meet homeless teens like me who was crazy and probably mentally depressed.

 

"If I can get you a place to stay, would you come with me? It will be at a teen shelter or something like that," said the officer.

 

"Yeah, I would come with you," I said. 

 

"Good, let's get you to a safer place," he said.

 

I took my backpack and my journal, although my dreams of meeting you, Seth Meyers, was no longer within reach, I was willing to give survival a try.

 

 

 

April 27, 2010.

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I haven't watched SNL for a very long time. Weeks and months since I was assaulted and last night, I slept in the Police Station that was smaller than most, and it felt like a small shop rather than a police station. Everyone of every kind came in, and sat on the bench next to me. A man with a squirrel and a big bite mark on his face sat down and I had to step aside because his pet looked like it was infested with rabies. I never knew squirrels were pets.

 

A prostitute came in with her pumps and red stockings and transparent dress. She wore that underwear that showed your butt? It must be very uncomfortable. And a man in his cowboy outfit without pants was standing handcuffed to his girlfriend both in their underwear were standing in front of the administration desk. They must have had a costume party somewhere and I wasn't invited. I won't come with them if I were invited, because they smelled like a joint and stunk like a skunk.

 

I still didn't know what day it was and the officer who took me, came back several times and told me, "Just sit tight, and I'll be back."

 

He finally came back with some paper work. He gave me a paper with a printout of a map directions and he showed me a place for girls. It was Covenant House. It was on 41st Street, and I was supposed to go there. 

 

"I'll get you a cab and I'll get you the fare. Just don't wander around but just go straight there, and meet Sister Rose McGeady," said the officer.

 

"Sister McGeady, ... a nun?" I asked. 

 

The officer smiled, and said, "Yes. But she's not mean. She's really nice."

 

He took out a small pocket sized book, entitled Sometimes God has a Kid's Face, and Sister Mary Rose McGeady was the author. "Read this for me," said the officer.

 

The officer left and called the cab for me, and I read the first few pages during the wait.

 

When the cab arrived, my eyes were red from the tears that flowed out of love for the homeless. I didn't feel homeless, because I walked out of my own home. I felt I deserved it. I knew it was wrong, but I didn't know how to shake off the feeling of anger and bitterness and self-righteousness out of me. 

 

I took the cab and during the drive there, I thought about you, Seth Meyers, and wondered if we would ever meet. Perhaps one day, but I knew I wanted to meet Sister Mary Rose McGeady too. Perhaps, she could save my life.

 

 

 

April 30, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Seth, I never knew being homeless was this rough. I thought it would be camping outside, under the stars, and the occasional commando toileting in the alleys of New York, but I was naive and dumb. I wanted to get out of the house because my Dad called me a slut, but I think God was looking out for me. 

 

The Police Officer who I met at the 9/11 Memorial building took me to the station, and got me cab to meet Sister Mary McGeady at Covenant House a couple days ago. I was anticipating a nun, but I got some lady who said he was a counselor when I got there at close to 9 pm.

 

"Maria, is it?" she said. She had glasses on that looked too big for her eyes and nose bridge. She looked young, with streaks of copper and blonde highlights on her black hair. 

 

"Yes, I'm Maria. The NYPD sent me here," I said.

 

"I know. I'm happy they sent you here. I didn't want to see you get arrested for sleeping in restricted areas. The building you slept in weren't designed for the homeless. It was built to commemorate the fallen," she said. "Josey, that's my name."

 

"Thank you, Josey," I said. Her voice was soft as she enunciated every word perfectly. "You're not from around here, are you? Are all New Yorkers as nice as you?"

 

Josey smiled, and told me, "I'm from Jersey, and I went to school in the Midwest, Wyoming, actually. I'm a peer-counselor."

 

I nodded, and my backpack felt so heavy and my stomach growled as I tried to move my hands over my belly to hide my embarrassment.

 

"You're starving. Let's go to the cafeteria," said Josey. "You'll meet new friends there. It's also a sort of coffee place and a study hall place for group work."

 

"Thank you," I said. 

 

The cafeteria was a large dining hall with just long tables like in high school, and a kitchen.

 

"I was told Sister McGeady will meet me," I asked.

 

"She's already home, and she might join us tomorrow, but she's been ill lately, so we might not get to see her until later on during your stay here," said Josey.

 

I looked to my hands and felt dirty and wanted badly to wash myself. On top of feeling hungry, I wanted to meet Sister McGeady because perhaps I would be forgiven for the wrongs I've done.

 

"The one who is in you, is greater than he who is in this world," said Josey.

 

I looked to her, and my eyes mist into tears, and I asked her, "I'm filthy, why do you think my insides are still great?"

 

"You're not filthy in my eyes," said Josey. "Everyone deserves second chances. You deserve yours."

 

"I'm so scared," I told her. My thoughts were full of fears. I haven't taken my meds, and I don't have any meds anymore. Everything I had was in my backpack. 

 

"Let's get you something to eat, and I want you to meet someone," said Josey.

 

We walked towards the back corner of the cafeteria and a young man was sitting at the last chair with his belly over his jeans, and his cheeks red. His brown eyes were forthcoming, and he opened his arms to me, expecting a huge hug.

 

"Will you be my friend?" he said.  

 

I looked at his face and his husky body, large and sort of obese. Actually, he was obese.

 

"Everyone has a different walk, Mary," said Josey. She pulled out a chair next to the young man and sat down. "Meet Joey."

 

"I'm Fat Joey," he said. He laughed and looked into my eyes that were moist. I didn't want to repeat what he said, because I didn't want to call him Fat Joey.

 

"Okay...okay....just Joey," he said. "I was just joking."

 

I offered a hand shake and he got up and walked around the table and hugged me, gently. "I don't want to squish you," he said. His smile made me smile, and he poked his stomach and started to giggle. "Marshmallow man!" he said. "Get it! Ghostbusters!!"

 

I laughed with him, and remembered the iconic movie. I loved Ghostbusters.

 

"My Mom kicked me out of the house because I was fat. She didn't know how jolly I can be. I make other kids laugh, even with the depression I have," said Joey.

 

My tears began to peek out again, as I wiped my eyes out of the thought of how kind Joey was being and how cruel his Mom was to him.

 

"We were poor," said Joey. "My Mom couldn't feed all of us and I was always eating most of the foods."

 

"I hate your Mom," I told him. "You're such a wonderful friend already."

 

"Mary, we want to show you something," said Josey.

 

Joey walked back to his chair, and took out a piece of paper with a drawing on it. It has words written down, "Welcome, Maria. We will make you feel at home," it said.

 

"I made it. I was told to make you smile tonight, but I didn't do that, yet," said Joey.

 

I smiled at him, and gave him a huge hug. 

 

"Ooooh, you smell funny, Mary," said Joey.  I laughed out loud.

 

"She will shower in her room in the girls hall," said Josey. "For now, let's get her some chicken pot pie, and we've got to let her just enjoy her dinner. Mary, you can shower afterwards."

 

"Thank you, Josey," I said.

 

A woman with an apron walked to the table and gave me a tray of a chicken pot pie and some fries on a plate, with a glass of milk next to it and chocolate pudding. "Her name is Maria, too, Maria. Oh wow...this might get confusing," siad Josey.

 

"You can call me M, like in 007," said Maria, the woman wearing an apron. 

 

"Nice!" said Joey, and he clapped. "You'll get to know Maria, Maria. She loves movies, and she can give you a quote of a movie and we'll have to guess where it's from."

 

"Oh wow....I never knew anyone who can do that," I said.

 

"Oh, I kid you not," said Maria. 

 

"Is that from a movie, Maria?" asked Josey.

 

"No," said Maria. "But, if I would have said 'I shit you not' then it would have been from The Rock, that film on Alcatraz Island."

 

"Holy moly," said Joey. "See....she's like Bollywood Jeopardy."

 

"I know Saturday Night Live," I said. "I can impersonate any of the characters on the sketches."

 

"SNL sucks!" said Maria.

"WHAT?!" I said, surprised. "I write to Seth Meyers almost every night!"

 

"You're nuts," said Joey. "But, you should send him those letters."

 

"Maybe we can do that later," said Josey. "Let's let Maria eat and have some sleep."

 

"We've got a lot of adventures to come," said Joey. "We can walk everywhere. I gotta lose weight."

 

"Pace with him," said Maria. 

 

"Thank you, Joey. I can't wait to spend some time here," I said.

 

The night proved to be one of the most endearing bonding moment in my lifetime. Seth, I never knew Covenant House was this kind, and I never knew it was here. I was lucky that I wasn't harmed the way some of the children of the night were, as I knew from the past and from stories of other highschoolers who knew of so and so who ran away and got trafficked. I was about done when I walked out of my house, and I thought my life would be short. But, having Covenant House and Joey, Josey and Bollywood Maria, made me realize there were good people in this world. Jack wasn't one and he didn't love me, but I never knew there were so many others who loved me. Tonight, I felt the hand of God.

 

Hoping I found my help,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 1, 2010

 

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

There was an ambulance early this morning, and I woke up from the noise of the girls outside talking loudly. 

 

"She just had it," said a brunette with her puffy eyes. "I didn't know she would do it, but she did."

 

"What is going on?" I asked her.

 

"A girl wanted to run away and the staff told her she couldn't so she took all her meds," said the brunette. "I'm Geraldine, but you can call me, Pillow."

 

"Pillow, why Pillow?" I asked her.

 

"That's what this guy used to call me and it just got stuck," said Geraldine.

 

"May I just call you Geraldine?" I asked, politely.

 

"I guess so, but everyone, and I do mean everyone, calls me Pillow. It's because I'm a comforter."

 

"I would prefer to call you Geraldine," I said.

 

She smiled at me, and told me, "The ambulance will take good care of her, and you won't turn out like her."

 

I nodded, as some strands of my hair fell to the side of my face and I tucked it behind my ears.

 

"Why are you here? What's your name?" asked Geraldine. "You must have came after hours. We turn off the lights at 8 in the evenings, every night."

 

"Mary, or Maria, I ran away and was arrested by the 9/11 Memorial building," I replied,

 

"What happened to you?" asked Geraldine.

 

"Rape, my ex-boyfriend did it," I said, my eyes low.

 

"All of us here were raped once or more before. It's common," said Geraldine.

 

I looked around me and all the girls gave me a smile. They were all of different races and mostly teens and some were a little older, but mostly about my age. It felt bittersweet, knowing I wasn't alone, but I didn't want the things that I had to endure to happen to us. I didn't want my life to happen to someone else.

 

"All of these girls?" I asked, my head turned to Geraldine. She nodded, and said, "Girls...what do you think?"

 

Some of the girls also nodded, and some waved at me. Seth, I didn't know it was this common. I wondered if there were so many versions of Jack in America. How many of them were there? Why did they do this to us?

 

"You're not alone," said Geraldine. 

 

"It's a horrible way to find out," I said. I covered my eyes and realized that most of the girls in my hall now were once raped or violated by someone even worse than just a boyfriend. Perhaps it was their Dad, brother, cousin, uncle or someone random who hurt them, but we all had something in common, we were girls not yet women, and we didn't know what to do.

 

"Stay here, until you get better. The peer advisors will help you," said Geraldine. "Are you in school?"

 

"I dropped out," I said. 

"You can get into the education program here," said Geraldine. "Don't run away this time. Do your parents know you ran away?"

 

"I don't know if my Dad knows," I said. "He's an alcoholic."

 

"All good girls finish best," said Geraldine. "You're a good girl. Be kind to yourself."

 

I didn't finish talking to Geraldine, but I knew that there were stories to every soul who occupied the rooms about me. I wasn't the only lost soul and the only weary heart that came to this place. I wanted to say to myself that I was strong, but I felt so weak and I felt so scared. I supposed God sent me here, without knowing. Maybe my high school buddies were right, maybe somethings do work out when you work hard enough.

 

Seth, I would never know if you'd care for me, and I would never know if you'd appreciate me if I was a run away and if I was a survivor. I won't know if you'd be scared of me, because I was trying to stalk you at the Rockefeller Center. I really wanted to meet you, and ask you to help me with a pep-talk and to reason on my behalf, but I won't ever know if that would happen. All I knew right now was that I was no longer alone and I met those of the same circumstances, and we were not happy. Seth, I wish you could tell me a story that would make me laugh, and make all of us laugh. I could always pray.

 

I'm forever your girl,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 2, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I didn't get out of my room. I stayed here after breakfast. I had cereal, with flax seed with six grams of fiber. Won't be enough to get me to the toilet, but not joking. I didn't leave my room. 

 

I stayed in my room for lunch, too. There was just a bed and I signed up to go to the computer room, but I'm considered crisis intake youth, considering how I was just homeless a couple days ago and got arrested. I guess that made me a crisis. 

 

You know how people know where to go when they got off the elevator? Mine kept going up and down and my mood swung from side to side and it was mostly low to the ground in drastic mode, and when the elevator door opened, I suddenly forgot what I was doing. It's no wonder my Dad didn't want me to drive. I never drove, and I didn't have a car. I walked everywhere. Even with my money from T-Bell. It was barely enough to make the rent and the bills.

 

I wish I could talk to you, and ask you to help me. I wished you truly was a big brother of mine, and someone who cared for me. I probably wouldn't be this way if I wasn't the only child, but it felt alone most of the time, and I had no one to confide in. I used to talk to Jack and Mabel but I mostly wanted a man to help me. I looked up to my Dad, but he was barely there. I loved that he worked at Target and made ends meet with me at our little home, but I wished he didn't drink so much. I wished for so many things. I wished I never worried about what other people would say, and what Mabel would tell others. I trusted Sam, but he wasn't cool, Seth. Jack was cool, and I looked at their appearance more than their hearts. I got in trouble because of it.  Was your heart good, Seth? 

 

I used to watch these shows on the television, as much as I watched SNL, but I wondered if they really were good enough to be on the shows or if they hurt someone to get there. Did you ever screw someone over in modeling or back stab someone?  I thought about Jack and how he will get on in his life. I couldn't handle my tears at the thought of him walking on graduation, being loved by his parents, then going to college and meeting someone else, and getting on with his big life and who knows...at my luck, he'd end up at SNL or even another acting gig and become famous. What would you say to someone like me at my position, Seth?

 

I didn't get out of my room because I would walk out there in the world as the loser. The teen pregnancy case that aborted because she asked for the rape. What would anyone say to me? How was I supposed to fix this now? My life ends here, I think.

 

I wanted to go end it,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 3, 2010.

 

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I ate cereal again with six grams of fiber. I ate the same cereal and if I added up all the fibers, I might as well take Dulcolax, but the strange thing was, I was only urinating, and not anything else. Sorry, Seth, it wasn't like you'd like to know, but I guessed that was a dirty joke from a girl on Bipolar Depression.

 

I stayed alive, and today I sat near the television but only stared at it. I couldn't do anything except write on these journals. My peer counselor asked me if I would ever want to go back to school to major in English. I told her, "If I'm still alive, probably."

 

I've been writing on my existensial mood swings all of my life and that's all I knew how to do. Weren't English Majors, also Literature Majors? Weren't they supposed to read? Well.....I haven't really read. I read trashy magazines that Dad had under the sink. But the writing was all shitty and some were supposed to be from world class writers, but they all write narcissist so well that I could only look at the nude pictures and adds. 

 

Forget it, Seth. I was never born to write. I was a shitty writer, too. My life WAS shit.

 

Shitty life, Mary,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 5, 2010.

 

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I took my meds, that's all I remembered for today.

 

Medicated, Mary,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 6, 2010.

 

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Joey pounded on my door, and I was really upset. He told me that the peer counselor has been asking me to get out and I missed my appointments with her. I told Joey, "I'm in crisis.....forever."

 

"That's not allowed," said Joey. His belly somehow closed the distance between us, and I was pretty sure our faces were about three feet apart. Anyway, he's big, and I looked at myself, and I felt big, too.

 

"You're new. You have to obey the rules, besides staying in your room and resting. There is a whole world outside. Let's go," said Joey.

 

I couldn't do anything else but cry and tears just kept flowing. I didn't want to go outside. Everyone had a compass in life, and I had an abortion. I had no assets, and nothing to live for. I felt like a loser and I didn't want anything else to do other than just sleep it off. I had a comfortable bed now and since I'm in crisis, I will just sleep here and not get out. Not write to anyone but you, Seth. 

 

"You have to do something else. Get out of that head or yours," said Joey.

 

"I'm comfortable here," I replied. It was true. It was all that I knew how to do, Seth. Write to you, write what I knew and it was all the shitty things in life and not get out of the world inside my head. It helped me cope and it helped me to be safe. I was becoming a hermit, but who the fuck cared? I killed a fetus, and unborn child, because I asked for the rape. I had a choice and I was pro at it, but it wasn't my fault but it felt like it was all my fault. What would you say to me, Seth? What the fuck was I supposed to do now?

 

I saved myself but lost my soul,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 7, 2010.

 

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

My peer counselor came to my room this early morning, and she told me to shower first and eat breakfast then to go for a walk with her. Her name is Joy.

 

"The first thing that happened to you, the first trauma," she asked.

 

"My Mom left," I answered. 

 

"Good. What's it like?" asked Joy.

 

"She hates us. It was her way out to get out of town," I said.

 

"Did you hear her say this?" asked Joy.

 

"No, but why would she leave?" I said.

 

"Was your Dad loyal?" asked Joy.

 

"As far as I know," I said.

 

"But you never asked him what happened?" asked Joy.

 

"She just disappeared, and never came home," I answered. "It's been like this since middle school."

 

"That was just a few years ago," said Joy. "You're 16? 15?"

 

"18," I said. "I tell people I'm 21."

 

"You look 12," said Joy. 

 

I frowned. I hated Joy.

 

"You think all girls and women are mean?" asked Joy. "Or is that leading"

 

"They can be bitches," I said. "Irresponsible. I felt like I had to parent my Dad because my own Mom didn't want to take care of us."

 

"I see," said Joy. "What about your Dad? Is he okay?"

 

"He drinks," I answered.

 

"Did anything wrong happen? Abuse? Hitting, or did he ever hurt you at all?" asked Joy.

 

"No, he's too drunk when he gets home. His friend Sam is always with him, but he's passed out, too," I said. 

 

"You're lucky Sam and your Dad didn't hurt you," said Joy. "Alcohol changes you."

 

"My Dad has a temper, but I wasn't hurt. I just worked a lot, and when I was little, I used to go in my room and wrote on my diary or watched tv by myself," I said. "Especially on Saturday Nights."

 

"What would you watch on television?" asked Joy.

 

"Re-runs of old shows, I love Lucy, Friends, and SNL on Saturday Nights," I said.

 

"Is that the journal you have?" asked Joy.

 

"I'm writing it inside my head and on these papers on real time," I answered.

 

"Okay....," said Joy. She shook her head and said, "SNL is a bit older for you."

 

"I like Seth Meyers," I said. (Seth.....I'm only 17, but my heart is 45).

 

The rest of the time with Joy was answers and questions about my Dad. I supposed it was where Jack came in, for my yearning for male attention. Joy didn't need to ask me more because I said, "I wanted to own my own love. Something irreplacable. Unlike my Mom."

 

"I'm sorry, Mary," said Joy. "I wished I knew why men rape."

 

"I still love my Dad. I just got scared that he would hit me and raped me that night when he got angry," I answered.

 

"He called," said Joy. "He asked me if it would be okay for him to talk to you?"

 

"How did he know I was here?" I asked. 

 

"The Police Department called his house, because they found your ID, and found out your Dad was home. They told him," said Joy. "Don't be scared. Your Dad sounded kind. We will supervise your visit."

 

"I want to stay here," I said.

 

"You can stay," said Joy. "Especially if there is alcohol abuse inside your home."

 

"Thank you, Joy," I said. 

 

"I think we can still walk outside and get some air," said Joy. "Want to get lunch, later?"

 

"I'd like that," I answered.

 

"Let's go to Be-wich-ed," said Joy. Be-wich-ed is a sandwich shop nearby here, Seth. If you've never been there, you should go because I got myself a tuna sandwich and it was delicious.

 

The rest of the time with Joy was walking down memory lane, the first time I fell down, the first kiss with Jack, and some talks about SNL and how you were never really on any sketches or I felt you looked incognito in all of them, until Weekend Update. Joy said she liked you, too, but she said you will most likely be married within a couple of years. Well, ...since it's 2010, I'll just count my blessings on having you in my heart and at the tip of my pen each night. Until then, Sethy. I supposed with Joy as my peer-counselor, I have so much to work through.

 

Somewhat making sense today,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 10, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I wished no one would judge me. Ever since I was little since my Mom left me, I felt like the whole world has been judging me. It felt that way because I think no one cared about my behavior, and I had to be the good girl to help raise my Dad. He was just a kid too, I think.

 

My Dad looked lost most of the time and I felt lost all the time with him. We talked about rent, making ends meet since I was young. We weren't always at the house. We moved several times from one apartment to another. We've never really owned any townhome or a house. We just called every place our "house." We liked to pretend we owned it, although I saw my Dad sold his guitar, his leather jacket, his watch, his radio and his bicycle to pay the bills. Ever since I saw my Dad did that, I didn't want to feel like his ball and chain, or his debt to God. I wanted to pull my own weight, so I worked as soon as I could.

 

Seth, the judging thing....I wondered why I felt this way. Joey said he didn't care if people judged him for his weight. He said, "Judgements are comfort for the judge, not the victim. We have to stop caring." I'm not made like him. I cared too much about what other people think because I've been so self conscious since I'm not made normal, with a normal house, normal family, normal upbringing, normal mental health. I felt like judgements fueled me to keep working, and when I spoke with Joy, she said, "So you always wanted to impress everyone to feel like one of the 'normal' people or the accepted person?"

Seth, you know what my answer was. If you were in my shoes, what would you do, Sethy? Even in writing, I wanted to impress you, even when you're not even here. That's how bad it got.

 

Joy told me that we were going to start on Crisis Intake Plan, and to walk down my goal plans, and my journeys, my hopes, my fears, my therapies and my desires to heal. I never thought that far. I just always wanted to please Jack, or actually, whoever paid attention to me at the time.

 

The rest of the time with Joy, during therapy, she told me a story.

 

The story was about a man with an old couch. Joy said this man always stopped by 7-11 and bought himself a soda with his dollars, and he'd put his change insde his pockets. He never took care of himself and just kept drinking sodas, eating junk from 7-11. He'd pass out on his couch while watching television every night, and often his coins would fall out, but he didn't care. He left all of his coins that fell out of his pockets inside the couch. 

 

One day, a kid next door came by wanting to sell some chocolates for his middle school fundraiser. The man said, "Sorry, kid. I need the money for myself." And the kid almost cried because it was his middle school fundraiser and he wanted to win a prize.

 

"Please, sir. Have you checked your couch. Maybe you have some loose change somewhere in the couch?"  The man had on a dirty shirt, untucked, with soda stains and Cheetos in his hair. He replied to the kid, "Sure, I'll go search for some change. Be right back," and so he searched for change, and of course, he found A LOT of change. 

 

He found Quarters, Silver Dollars, Dimes, Nickels, that some parts of the couch were hard because the coins were many and the couch was old. He said, "Oh my Lord, I'm actually rich!" 

 

The kid smiled, and said, "You are, you're just putting your money in the wrong places." The man looked to the kid, and said, "You know what, kid. I'm going to change, no pun intended, but I'm gonna."

 

"But, I hope you haven't forgotten about the chocolates that I'm selling," said the kid. 

 

"No, I won't forget because you made me look for change, that I realized I've wasted all of my monies and time on this couch when I could have saved up, cleaned up, changed up, shape up, and become rich," said the man. He gave the kid, $10 dollars but didn't take any chocolates, instead, he closed the door, showered, changed his clothes, and tried to find a job. 

 

Joy said that the point of the story was, that the man realized his potential, although he lost all those coins inside his own couch, it could have been worse, he could've lost his life from heart attacks, or getting shot at 7-11 when he was getting some Coca-Cola. But, because of the eye of the innocent, he saw the truth, and he was rich. Rich with potential, rich with the future, and rich with his possibilities. He had what a lot of people didn't have. 

 

I supposed, I was that way too. I supposed, even with the abortion, the assault, the low income, and the bipolar depression, I had something of worth inside of me that I didn't see before. 

 

I'm going to find out,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 12, 2010.

 

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Yesterday, Joy and I took a walk with Joey and Jenna. Jenna was raped when she was little. Seth, is 18 considered young to be a rape victim? How old can a rape victim be, Sethy? How young was young to be raped, and how old is old to be raped? 

 

Jenna was 10. I thought that was pretty young, didn't you think? She said her Dad sold her to his friends to get some drugs. She used to live with him, but she was always spending nights at other men's homes to pay for her Dad's debt. She told me that one time she had her period and a man still had sex with her, until she was pregnant, and later on, she had an abortion. 

 

I realized that some lives are worth saving, like Jenna's. Although she was hurt so bad, but like we talked about before, her potential was great, because she kept on living, and I gave her credit for that. I think that was the point that Joy, Joey and Jenna wanted me to understand, that I needed to keep going. 

 

If there was a time when I felt small, it was this time with Jenna. It's not that she made me feel worthless, but she made me realize that I was one form of assault victim, but a power of one amongst many to survive the trauma. I mean, there were so many victims that we're not alone, but because of that, I was supposed to be powerful to survive the trauma with them. Did you get what I mean, Seth? It was truly not as complicated as Drunk Uncle. Sometimes, I couldn't understand him.

 

"What made you think that you've had the worst life, so far, Mary?" asked Jenna.

 

"I feel like I've killed a baby," I said.

 

"Was it your decision?" asked Jenna.

 

"Yes, it was to save myself," I said. I felt like the selfish loser, and an idiot who won't ever deserve to be a Mother again.

 

"I did the same," said Jenna.

 

I was flummoxed and my mouth gaped open. 

 

"You didn't think I was barren while I was being trafficked, did you?" said Jenna. "Do you know how many women get abortions each year?"

 

I was silent. If I had a choice, it was to NEVER have an abortion. If I had a choice, I NEVER wanted to be raped. 

 

Joy finally broke the silence, "It is always a case by case situation, Mary," she said. I didn't understand Joy. "I thought it was pro-life or pro-choice. I felt pro-wrong," I said.

 

Joey pointed to the building we were passing by, "Look at the windows in this building, they are so huge," he said. "Do you think rich people get abortions? What made them do it? And do they live in this building?"

 

Joy looked up, and said, "I don't judge a woman on abortion. Whether she choses to keep or abort the baby. I choose to love her, especially if it's a case of abuse or biological anomalies."

 

"I wished I didn't do it," I said. 

 

"It was the thing that saved me," said Jenna. 

 

"I choose to not blame the woman for it, so I choose to not blame you, Mary, for saving yourself," said Joey. "If there was a place who could save your baby, such as adoption, I would have brought that up to you too."

 

"I didn't want to make another orphan in this world," I said. "I didn't want a reminder of Jack's rape in my life."

 

"I choose to love you, Mary," said Joy. "I would never blame a woman on that. I've never been pregnant and I've never been in your shoes."

 

"It was the thing that saved me," said Jenna, her eyes in tears. "I couldn't survive knowing I bore a child from the human trafficking. I would end my life."

 

"I still felt wrong," I said.

 

"One day, you will right the wrong," said Joey. "It's not penance, but transformation. Perhaps you will adopt or have your own child. And even if you don't, you can help women in these tough situations."

 

"It was the thing that saved me," said Jenna. "I wanted to end my life, although I was bearing a human life from the assault. I felt my choice was taken out of me."

 

"If I was a teen pregnancy case, I might choose differently," I said. "Or, if I was rich, I might choose differently."

 

"If you were a teen pregnancy case, I choose to love you as a teen Mom, and if you decide to abort, I would love you as a woman," said Joy. "Some people say that it is a right or wrong choice, but that's too extreme. It has to be a case by case basis. If a woman can still have the child, she would realize her world will change drastically and will physically need to work on it. If a woman decides to abort, she has to realize her mental health and spirit will be changed drastically and she will have to heal from it. It's a matter of which of the two you're capable of, and it is a case by case basis."

 

"It was the thing that saved me," said Jenna, and by this time, her sobs needed tissues, and she added, "It was at the point of when the baby lives, I will die, and there was no one to take care of either of us."

 

Joey's eyes were in tears, as he said, "I've never realized the suffering all women carried in life, even as little girls, teens and later on, as women. And here I am, just sad because I'm fat and homeless."

 

"We can't always blame everything on Eve. Like rape for instance," said Jenna.

 

"I just wished more men were responsible and kind," I said. "So women didn't have to bear all of the suffering of childbirth. The world needs more compassionate men."

 

Joey wiped his tears, and said, "I'm gonna need some chocolate cake later. And then I'll send a prayer request to Sister McGeady for true love for everyone." 

 

Joy and I laughed, and Jenna hugged Joey around his stomach. We walked nearly six miles just talking about righting the wrongs we've done, and if we would ever get into heaven. But, I just knew that I won't make a good Jesus.

 

I wondered if God forgives me, Seth,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 13, 2010

 

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Seth, I figured it was his smile, Jack's, and his puppy dog eyes that got me, but his face and our kisses were inside my dreams. I wasn't sure if it should be called a nightmare because he assaulted me, but I was worried that I won't ever meet anyone who would love me because of the assault. Joey asked me all of these questions and we had a yogurt and milk conversation at the cafeteria after therapy.

 

"Why do you like him?" asked Joey.

 

"He's historical, at least that's what he told me," I answered.

 

"Define historical...who was his Dad?" asked Joey, taking a dollop of yogurt on his spoon into his mouth. "This is all pro-biotic, right. So I'm going to at least fart with this?"

 

"He said his ancestors created the first telescope," I replied. "I think you'd go to the bathroom after three hours at least. Don't worry, you're going to lose weight. We'll make it a goal."

 

"What? He's one of the Three Wisemen from Ancient Middle East?" asked Joey, flabbergasted.

 

"What? I think Jack was part English and the other part Italian," I said.

 

"But......oh okay, are you sure Italians weren't making pasta during that time? It could be true," asked Joey.

 

"He specifically said, TELESCOPE!" I said, frustrated. I was worried and annoyed because I had to rehash what Jack and I spoke about in Breckenridge during our first sexual experience. It was so romantic, the stars were outside and we looked out of the window and he spoke about his ancestors.  "Jack said his ancestor found a meteor and that's how his great great great great great great great great grandfather knew it was going to be epic."

 

"Do you really believe him? I think he was trying to get into your panties," said Joey. "You're blind aren't you?"

 

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

 

"You're pretty, Mary," said Joey. "It would take a special person to be with you, someone with a very attractive personality and charm and heart. But, you've sold yourself to easily."

 

"My Dad is not exactly historical and I work at T-Bell," I answered.

 

"It's the quality, Mary. Not just the money, and I admit, it helps, but girls with bad hearts have money just the same," said Joey. "A lot of them call me Fat Joey and I'd oblige to their name calling and believe it's comedy, but it's bullying. You're not like them. You actually wanted to be my friend."

 

"I'd love you even if you're on a wheelchair," I said. 

 

He took my neck and clenched it and pretended to choke me, and said, "Stop that shit!"

 

"Oh Sorry....just sayin, I'd be your friend even when things are worse," I said. 

 

"YOU'RE HOMELESS!" said Joey. I shrugged my shoulders. He shook his head and finished his yogurt. "Besides, Jack is still a rapist."

 

"An Elite Rapist," I said. 

  

"King David, a King, raped a woman because she took a damn shower. His son, Ammon, or Amsterdam, who was also a King, raped Tamar, and she was just some girl with a bowl of soup. King David later wrote the Psalms, but he got killed and eaten by dogs, and his psycho son got killed by Tamar's brother, Absalom," said Joey. "They will have what's coming. Let me tell you that! And it don't matter who their ancestors were, it's all coming to him."

 

"Wow....you're smart, Joey," I said, in awesome wonder of Joey's biblical knowledge.

 

"Mary, you've gotta get deep therapy and heavy therapy," said Joey. "Do you know there are worse things that could have happened to you? Like being trafficked for a drug cartel for instance. There are crazier things in the world you know. It's the heart that makes a man, not his bloodline."

 

Since that moment on, I realized Joey and I could talk about anything. Not only because he would be honest to me, but also he would be a positive support for my mental health. Truthfully, I've never met anyone who became homeless because he was fat, but Joey told me the truth, he was kicked out by his Mom because she couldn't feed him anymore. It was that brutal.

 

There were other kids with sexual assault and other violence as the primary cause of their circumstances, and I wished I never had to witness it, but it's real, Seth. I was one of the many. 

 

YYYYOOOOUUUGGHHHUUUURRRRTTT,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 14, 2010

 

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Seth, to be honest, I think I was insane. Who would run away from home? There was a comfortable bed and a fridge with food, although not much, but there were some burritos in there.

 

Some days, I wished I knew what I was doing in life. Other days, I wished I knew if my Mom thought of me when she abandoned me and my Dad. He called this morning and I accepted the call and spoke with him inside the administration office. 

 

"Come home, Mary," he said.

 

"I'm not sure if you really want me as your kid anymore," I replied. 

 

"Why do you think that?" he asked.

 

I was silent. I heard breathing for several minutes, and my Dad finally said, "I will call you back, soon. Just stay chaste and remember your rights and wrongs." He hung up afterwards.

 

Truthfully, I didn't know my Dad knew right from wrong. I felt like I was being the parent and I was helping him straighten things out. I wondered if he thought it was right to drink six beers in three hours after work in the evenings. I wondered if my Dad thought of me when he numbs his pain, and I wondered if my Mom wanted me when she lived in that house with my Dad.

 

I wondered if I was the child they wanted. That's how I felt growing up because my parents fought all the time that I wondered if they really wanted me in the first place, or if I was an accident and they didn't have a choice. I felt like the black cat or the black pig or that white owl that everyone saw and talked about after someone died. 

 

I ended up crying underneath the table, and Sister McGeady came to the help me.

 

"Get up, Mary," she said, her head poking out in my vision.

 

"I don't want to go home," I answered.

 

"You're a smart girl, you can start over and renew your life," she said. "You can stay here as long as you need."

 

No one ever told me I was smart. I had to be homeless to find out I was smart. 

 

"Am I really smart, Sister?" I asked her.

 

"You chose us, instead of drugs, or exploiting yourself, so yes, you're smart. There are worse cases than you," said Sister McGready. 

"Everyone told me that. There are worse things than me. In my world....I am garbage," I said to her, my tears and snot dripping all over my chin.

 

Sister McGeady said something that helped me, Seth, and I never knew this was true, because I thought of Jack when she said it. "No humans can be garbage," said Sister McGready. "Garbage is for dead objects only. Living things, breathing things, humans, animals, and plants cannot be garbage. It's a common misconception."

 

I realized she was right. There was a lift to my shoulders and the burden over my back broke to pieces and evaporated in the air. I felt free and justified to speak to her.

 

She looked into my eyes, and told me something that I realized was true about myself, but I never knew, "Girls have the royal bloodline. Boys couldn't give birth, but girls could. It's boys who needs girls and it's men who need women. From now on, that's the world you live in. You're ROYAL."

 

There was a strength in me, that made me realize I was needed in this world. I was irreplaceable and important, not because I could give birth, but because I felt stronger than Jack. I felt stronger than the rapist. For once, I felt stronger than rape.

 

"I've accidently aborted, Sister McGeady," I confided in her.

 

"I know, but it was the STI that made you do so, it was a choice made for you," she said. 

 

"I still felt hurt and I think it was my fault," I said.

 

"It's not," said Sister McGeady. "You'll have to repeat it over and over again. The trauma is bigger than you right now. You couldn't handle it, but slowly you can heal from it. You have to rely on the system to help you. It wasn't your fault."

 

I didn't realize that there was such a thing as "the system." I still didn't know much in this world. I didn't know about the system, how the system worked, what the system entailed, and how to help myself with it and through it.

 

"Such things as healthcare, well being, mental health, stability, financial freedom, and so many things isn't in the radar of any teens, and teens aren't known to have the knowledge at these points in life," said Sister McGeady. "Age makes a big difference. You are too young to handle the level of sexual relationship you had. There wasn't enough guidance involved, and your mind and emotions didn't grow as mature yet to handle that. Then there was the trauma, your body was too young. I don't blame you at all. It wasn't your fault."

 

"Is this all my Dad's fault?" I aked. "I don't want to blame him for everything, and I already blame him for his addiction. And it was Jack who raped me."

 

"I want to make sure you're going to learn while you're here," said Sister McGeady. "Not only about unconditional love, but of a life that's perhaps new, out of the box, fresh, and safe."

 

"I want to learn, Sister," I told her. She nodded, and wrote a number, one million, on a piece of paper.

 

Seth, I wish you could see her, in her jeans and sweater, Sister McGeady was magical.

 

 

Going on a field trip,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 20, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I wrote a little today, Seth. I wasn't sure what to do. I've been in this existential crisis all of my life. I wish my Dad was rich and I was a Princess and my Mom loves me. I haven't hugged my Dad for a very long time. If there was one thing I wished for in life, it's more Dad hugs.

 

I wanted to know what it felt like to have a normal childhood, and a normal high school experience. I kept thinking I should be blamed for everything but that wasn't true. Sister McGeady told me that not everything was under my control. 

 

I wanted to know what it felt like without depression or trauma. My life felt like one giant roller coaster and I was unstable for most of my life. I sometimes wished I did have the baby. I wanted to know what it felt like to be pregnant and have a healthy baby delivery, but that would put me in poverty and my Dad won't be happy. 

 

You know how people look back and they have regrets? I often look forward and I feel hopeless.

 

I had a thought that I would be in deep trenches all of my life, and I even had a nightmare that I would be 47 years old, working retail, not married, no kids, no retirement, and a spinster forever. That was the dream I had, that I was a failure and everyone knew and everyone was happy because they did much better than me in life. I dreamt that I was the loser that everyone labelled and hated. I saw that in my future, and I couldn't help but sob and felt these shattered pieces of my heart crumbling down to the ground, and life as I knew it was over.

 

What would you say to me, Seth? Do you think I still have a future? Do you think I'd be stuck in that rut forever and to be working retail and looking down on myself all the time, because I never amounted to anything? 

 

I now appreciated my Dad so much more, because he never wanted the life he was sentenced and I didn't think it was his fault that he became an alcoholic. I felt he was trying hard and things had a glass ceiling. All the retail workers at WalMart, Target, T-Bell, McDonalds, KFC, Home Depot, who worked their shift for a career in their retail jobs deserved better. I surely hope for each of them to have a family, and to have their situations in life worked out and I asked Sister McGeady to help me lift them up in prayers for miracles to happen. To tell you the truth, I felt proud of the retail workers, because they were earning a living and not letting themselves turn to depression or homelessness or wellfare and hand outs. They're working and a lot of them are great at helping others. I loved retail workers. They deserved the best things in life. I wished for each of them to be blessed and to prosper and to have the benefits and retirements they deserved. They've earned it and they're working honest jobs. Props to all retail workers.

 

As for me, I got hurt, Seth, and now I was a part of the statistics. I promised myself to pick myself up. To get out of Covenant House after the therapy was over, and for Sister McGeady and the staff to finish helping me realize my own potential and to give me skills to care for myself. Sometimes I wished for my Dad to give me a pep talk. I miss that so much.

 

Seth, to tell you the truth. I wanted to write. All of my life, I wrote to someone, and I have been writing to you for at least as long as high school lasted so far. Perhaps my world won't stay the same and I would experience a push from angels. I won't wait for it, I would just keep working. Everything I've enjoyed was a creative art, every fan letter, every poem, every story, and every heartfelt confession. I sure hoped to God that this works out for me, and if retail or even T-Bell would be my future, I'd walk the journey.

 

Sister McGeady told me to cut up pictures from old magazines to make a collage for her, of what I wanted for my life. I took a poster board and cut up pictures of New York, Paris, London, and the ocean. I took pictures of someone's writings, a laptop, famous books, cups of tea with cupcakes and some lemon tarts. I pasted them on the poster board and had pictures of a small house and a small dog with me and a picture of my Dad that I pretended I had. On the bottom, I wrote....keep going and keep moving, the world was my oyster. I also wrote...Dad and me, forever.

 

Seth, do you think that was good enough? Or did you think I'd be that 47 years old woman who would be single with no kids and working retail. If I was that woman, would you care for me less?

 

I hope I get to become a writer one day, because that's what I want to be.

 

Praying,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

May 21, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

The world was raining, Seth, and the sun wasn't coming out soon, but I knew it was there. Like my future, Seth, it seemed bleak but I knew it's there. I won't think much although I do, and I was sad to admit, and full of regrets, but I could say that I was alright right now, this moment, it was itself, enough and for me, no one else. 

 

I went outside about an hour ago and I should have washed my hair and brought shampoo with the rain pouring, but I didn't. It would have been smarter, instead I cried. I looked up letting the rain drop wet my face, and my tears felt warm rolling down slower on my face. I thought about being a writer, and I didn't know a thing. What the hell was I supposed to do, Sethy? I never had a single English class, except for those classes in high school, and you know I dropped out, right. How? By what force? Who's going to tell me how to do this? What the heck am I doing? 

 

I knew how to have sex better than write, that's a fucking truth, Seth. I knew how to make love to Jack and got pregnant then ran away like a loser, but the important stuff....I'm totally shitty with it. I was all talk. I didn't know how to do anything, the negative words were right...I had no skills. Felt stupid right now. I didn''t know what books to read, what was I supposed to do now? Just pick up a book and say "I'm going to be a writer?" 

 

I wrote nonsense, my grammar wass shitty, and I was crazy about some guy (you) who doesn't even know I was alive and the worst of it was....he's a celebrity. I wished you were some computer science geek at GE or something, then you could at least give me discounts on fridges and microwaves. But this....I was writing nonsense, talking to myself, writing shit, thinking shit, crazy shit like I was supposed to be a world class writer and such. Who the hell would give me props for believing in myself? I bet God was surprised, and you know nothing surprises that guy.

 

So I kept thinking about it and I talked to Joey, and he said, "Well.....one step at a time. You can think it over and try to go to college or something. Isn't that the right step?"

 

"Yeah, I'm going to do that, from New Jersey Community College, and get some big time publisher or agent.....yeah....that sounds reasonable, right Joey?" I said and asked at the same time.

 

"Uh-huh....I think so, right? Does that make you feel good or bad? Tell me," he asked.

 

"HHmmm.....it's okay but I'm not convinced you think I can do it," I told him.

 

"Well....," Joey said, with his eyes scrunched, and he definitely looked stressed. I made Joey stress out, Seth. What kind of friend stresses you out and makes you cry all the time? I was so sorry for Joey sometimes, but I desperately need him. He walked away for a minute and I had no idea where he went. After five minutes, I was still sitting there, and he came back with an old 1980's walk-man, and it had some kind of tape inside.

 

"This is the only thing I got at the Goodwill store, and I swear to God, it's magic," said Joey.

 

Inside was a tape, and I think it looks like a battery operated walk-man, and I couldn't help it but laughed out loud, "What the hell is this thing? Walk-man, 80's tape deck, and who's in this tape?"

 

"Just listen to it," said Joey.

 

"Is it Madonna?" I asked. Gotta say, I love her.

 

"Nope....just listen," said Joey.

 

I took the headphones with some spongy thingy on the earmuffs stuff. Joey pushed play I think, or some kind of button, and the music came on, "Who is this chick, Joey?"

 

"Janis!" said Joey. "She was an old rock star, but don't blame me for her druggie addiction. I didn't do it," said Joey. "But she's great!"

I listened to her smoky voice and said,"Raise your hand," and I looked to Joey, "and what does that allegorically represent, Joey?"

 

"You gotta start from the bottom, ask questions, get your answers from experts, go to find resources....like the way you're doing now. It's possible," said Joey. "I gotta go pee, I think."

 

I listened to her some more and my head bopped...I like Janis, but with the voice I hear on my ear, she was probably a really tall lady with an electric guitar and dreds. I didn''t know who this Janis person was, Seth. But, I listened to her whole album and her voice took me to my room, and I sat on my bed as I started to write down next steps. 

 

Either Joey or Janis, they were angels. 

 

I love you, Seth, 

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

June 1, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Today was the full day of summer I waited for, Seth. It took a while since the last time I wrote to myself (but fictionally to you, get it?). Anywho, Seth, I was moving on. The trauma from Jack took a toll on my sleep. I had to move on. My heart must go on, because I have nightmares and it's not healthy. The PTSD and my bipolar depression really hurt me, Seth. I was crying all the time and deep inside my heart I knew Jack was probably playing basketball. I didn't have any evidence of it, just like the rape, but I knew deep down inside he was in a park somewhere while I was here in The Covenant House but no one was supposed to know.

 

What do you think I needed to do, Seth? I hope I took the right steps in making this move to go on with my life, and decided to forget about the whole thing and just live on making my dreams come true. To be a writer, and to make it big. I didn''t know how yet, but I was taking everything Joey adviced me to heart, and yes, also with the things that Sister McGeady told me. 

 

I walked to the park this past weekend and I went with Joey. Just between you and me, no one has ever talked to me. They always lurked from the corner of their eyes with sneers and judgements because I was poor and my Dad drinks more alcohol than a bodega drunkard. I wasn't sorry that I talked to Joey all the time. I felt it's healthy, more than the love I kept for Jack, because he gave me nightmares. Seth, I was moving on from Jack and if you were somehow telepathic and knew what I was writing, please pray for me to keep it real and to keep going.

 

I went through a lot on my own, and especially with my Dad. I unbelievably pray now, and I didn't use to pray but I do now. I think it wass the fears from the PTSD and Depression that made me want to be closer to something truthful and all powerful. Would you blame me? 

 

Joey told me all the time to pray and I listened to him. I didn''t usually listen to any guy unless he had a six-pack abs, and a gorgeous face, but I listened to Joey. Jack's pretty face meant nothing to me now. I realized that his pretty faces led to pretty lies, but nothing will help me if I fall for more lies. It would be a harder fall from believing in God. I think it was a hard choice I must bear all of my life, and to listen to the words of Sister McGeady, but I would choose her over Jack. I would choose my own heart and choose Joey's friendship than suicide. 

 

If one day we meet, Seth, please hug me and congratulate me, because you must know deep down in your soul that there was a fan somewhere, somehow, someone who loved you unconditionally all throughout your life and your years of not making it to making it HUGE. You were the HUGE SOMETHING, and I was sure you know how big you are.

 

You're global, Seth, and I was in a New York homeless shelter. I was a rescue mission to some, but to you, invisibly a friend, and to myself, a rock formation. I was solidifying, Seth. I was moving on, listening to words of truth, and no more lies.

 

Truthfully yours,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

 

July 6, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

It was all a lie. The fatness in between and the phobias concocted out of Joey's mind was all his inability to get rid of his bulimia. It wasn't alcoholism, drug addiction or schizophrenia.....it was an eating disorder that ate him alive. The notion of eating healthy never came to him, it was a dream he used to say to me. 

 

It happened one night last month, and I am never the same again. He told me he wanted to have some porridge and he wanted to try some Chinese Porridge with Barley and Ginkgo Biloba from Shanghai Mong in Koreatown. I told him I have no idea what to do.  He told me to follow him and I just did that, and he meandered on some streets and went straight and then turned to the right and then left and crossed to the next street over and took me to a bus and some of the same things happened....we turned left and right and turned to the next street corner and crossed another alley and another street and went to hit up some bodega and got some Arizona Iced teas, and finally reached Shanghai Mong. 

 

"How the hell are we going to afford a place like this?!" I said, slapping the back of his shoulder. Joey smirked and had a plan and I never knew he was being cruel and vindictive at food and the biology of his own body.

 

"Let's just order," he said. 

 

We got a table in the corner of the place and we sat on some nice shiny mahogany chairs like in those Jackie Chan movies I remembered my Dad used to make me watch, to fill his time drinking whiskey inside a paper bag. 

 

"Just relax and open up your stomach and relax it even more, and let your butt just sink into the chair padding and let yourself relax," said Joey. I had no idea he knew meditation this way before, but the guy was determined to get his porridge and eat it too.

 

This night was special because I wrote to you, Seth Meyers, the night before, and I was really happy. I thought of the funny things you said to me during our special times together on Weekend Update on SNL. I like to think you were especially telling me stories of funny news across the ocean and across the bridge from Jersey to NYC. But, I digress, I was really happy, and so was Joey because I smiled and smiled and never suspected a thing.

 

"Barley and Gingko Biloba porridge, please, and you can add some chicken in there to please me," said Joey.

 

"I'll have the lettuce wraps, please," I said. Then I whispered, "Who's paying for this?"

 

"SSSShhhhhssssshhhhhh......," he said. I suspected something wrong, but I should have said something to him and stopped him, but the lettuce wraps came and it was DIVINE!

 

Joey ate non-stop and he slurped the porridge and kept eating it till it was gone. Then he reached into his pocket, and took out a small cockroach, and put it into the bowl. I almost screamed but I cried instead, and didn't know what to do! I was about to call the police, but I was so scared that I froze in my chair. 

 

"Joey.....you can't....," I whispered sort of loud and by that time, it was late and approaching 8 pm.

 

I didn't know people were still rolling in to dine and I still didn't know what to do. I never knew it was going to happen this way, but it did!

 

"Hhhhmmmm, sir, waiter, please come here, please waiter!" yelled Joey to the waiter. 

 

"Yes, how can I help you?" said the waiter.

 

"I finished the porridge and look who was in the bowl the whole time," said Joey.

 

"I am so sorry, sir!!! OH MY GOD!" said the waiter. He ran to the back of the restaurant and took the bowl with him.

 

The manager (and I think that man I saw really was the owner) looked at Joey and I swear, Seth, he folded his fingers together and bowed to Joey and cried, "I'm so sorry, sir, How can you forgive me?! Please, sir, don't call the health department. We are careless, we didn't know it was in there, it must have been a dead one."

 

"Well....just give me another clean one and we call it even. But my girlfriend and I are not paying for this," said Joey.

 

"No, we're not paying for this!" I told him. I looked to Joey and nodded. "I'd like a porridge too!"

 

"Oh no! She won't need another one, just a pair of lettuce wraps are enough, for her that is," said Joey. 

 

I kicked him under the table, but he looked to me and flicked me off. I kicked him again and he said, "Diet Dr. Pepper, for the lady, please."

 

"That's better," I said. "I am thirsty." 

 

The second bowl of porridge came after ten minutes and this time, it had sliced Peking duck and preserved eggs inside. Joey's eyes became wide, and he slurped and ate the porridge without slobbering, but finished in five minutes. I counted because my Diet Dr. Pepper came afterwards. I sipped it with jealousy suds inside my straw.

 

I was so mad that Joey didn't play with me, but he suddenly dropped to the ground and held his stomach. He coughed and coughed and ran to the bathroom, and he made loud sounds like he was hurting on the toilet and farted loudly. I was scared and looked to the ceiling and around the room, and the closed my eyes and cried. I couldn't believe I was an accomplice to his fake cockroach, and now...to his food poisoning. 

 

The manager came out again and he went to the bathroom, which was near the back of the restaurant and some people still heard him. I walked towards the door and there was a foul smell and I ran back to my table.

 

"Just give me another clean one, and we call it even," I heard Joey said. He must be crazy to still want to eat here, and how many porridges could he eat?

 

"Joey....let's go back to The House," I told him.

 

"That's not right, we have to stay and finish this.....it is my last rite," said Joey. I didn't understand what "my last rite" meant and I didn't want to ask him, but I'm guessing it has to do with his right to make a statement. I was scared that he might become a criminal and I was so worried of how he might be caught.

 

Joey walked to the table and I swear, Seth....he looked like he lost weight, but from porridge? He only ate two bowls?

 

"Sir, the porridge is done and at your service," said the waiter serving the fresh bowl of chicken and dumpling porridge this time. 

 

"You have outdone yourselves, minions," Joey said. "Just kidding. Thanks."

 

He ate and I watched him and my mind began to wander at the possibilities that this was all a plot for himself, to get out of his own life at The Covenant House.

 

"Joey...are you okay?" I asked softly and burped, worried and full of Diet Dr. Pepper.

 

"UH huh....," he said, slurping and gorging himself with more spoonful of porridge. He slobbered and ate and ate and ate, and then I heard him fart. "Oh no!" he said.

 

He ran to the bathroom, and I heard him scream. "You bloody bastards! What did you give me?"

 

"Nothing, sir!" said the manager, who was listening to him, as I ran to the bathroom, and again, smelled the foul odor and ran back to my table. 

 

Joey came out and this time, he held his stomach, and he looked dehydrated and sweaty on the forehead.

 

"Bloody this time," he told me.

 

"Sir, we can give you free food, but please don't say anything to the police, please, sir!" said the manager.

 

"Make me another one and we call it even," said Joey.

 

The manager went to the kitchen to cook up another bowl.

 

Tears came out of my eyes without me knowing it was there, until I began to drip on the table and mucous came out of my nose.

 

"I'm worried," I told him.

 

"If there is anything I love, it's Chinese food," said Joey.

 

He looked to the ground, and took out some pills and it looked like something familiar. "This will make me go poopie more." He smiled at me, and took about a handful.

 

I didn't know what he took but they looked like fen-phen or diet pills because Joey told me once that he was dieting and he seemed to be dieting all the time. 

 

"Are those stool softeners?" I asked.

 

"I'm eating it, and hear me roar!" said Joey. "Another porridge, please! Hah!"

 

I was convinced that he was crazy and going mad! He told me that he wanted porridge, but he didn't tell me that he was about to poop it out at the same time. 

 

The next porridge was pork cutlets with green onions and pork blood. It looked amazing, and I bet it was delicious. Joey ate it and I knew he was chewing more than pork and pork blood and green onions, because those pills were in there too.

 

"I'm not sure if this is a good thing to do, but I'm going to call 911," I told him. 

 

I spoke to the manager and said, "I think he is addicted to porridge, Sir."

 

"As long as he won't call the police, we are okay and he can eat as much as he can," said the manager, as tears came out of his eyes.

 

I walked to the table and I saw Joey gasping. He held his heart and he fell to the ground. 

 

"Call the ambulance!" I yelled out to the waiter. 

 

Joey kept farting and soon enough, he was vomiting and then I saw his pants began to absorb something wet and the wet spot that was small began to enlarge and the foul fecal odor came out as I knew he was pooping on the ground as he held his stomach.

 

"If this was the way to die, then it is a good death," said Joey, his breath short and he began to cry.

 

"Why, Joey?" I asked him, in tears, "And why here? Why Chinatown, and why this restaurant, and this food?"

 

"It's my favorite," said Joey. As I looked on his face, a smile, and a big one at that. Then he held his heart and his breathing became shorter and shorter till it was no more.

 

The ambulance came and Joey was dripping with bloody diarrhea and mucous coming out of his body. I sobbed and sobbed and couldn't handle anything else anymore and just kept crying.

 

It was his relationship with food that made him homeless, that made his mother hate him, that made her kick him out. It was all foods that made him obese, yet jolly, and sad but happy at times. I was so sad and sobbed and sobbed and I didn't know what to do. I walked home and was lost for hours, until the police came to me, and asked me if I was okay and I explained to him what happened.

 

"Bulimia, that's what killed him?" asked the police officer. "Or was it the diet pills?"

 

"It was all of it, and his hatred for food, and his hatred for being homeless, and for being obese," I said.

 

"You need to go home, Mary," said the officer.

 

"I hope Joey is in Heaven with Jesus," I said.

 

"He died an innocent man, perhaps only guilty of food poisoning, but he died an innocent man," said the officer.

 

I will write again, Seth. But, that was what happened and it was just one night in Chinatown.

 

 

I lost a friend,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

August 18, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Since I lost Joey, I gained 25 pounds. It wasn't because I wanted to be like him, or miss him, but because (double negative) I was sad. 

 

The good thing was, my Dad came by to The Covenent House and he was sober.

 

We talked, and we watched a movie, and processed the whole thing.

 

"The Great Gatsby," he said. "There is my favorite person in there, Robert Redford."

 

"I wish it was a movie with Leonardo DiCaprio," I said.

 

"Maybe one day, there will be another The Great Gatsby movie with Leonardo in it," said my Dad.

 

"He's my dream," I told him. 

 

"I thought it was Sethy," said my Dad.

 

Seth, just a disclosure, I did think Leonardo is and was and will always be a hot specimen of a hunk. He's known that and he's talented, and I hope one day you'll have a talk show and have Leonardo on and talk about fandom and fan girls.

 

My Dad and I watched the movie and I've read the book, and it brought back some trauma. About Jack and about the past. Nick Carraway said, "You can't repeat the past," as he looked to Jay Gatsby in the garden and Jay Gatsby said, "Oh you're wrong. You can."

 

That scene reminded me of how I was so in love with Jack and how the brought me to his villa in Breckenridge and told me that his ancestors created the telescope. I won't be able to recreate that, but the assault underneath the bleachers came into my mind at least once a day, and I didn't want it to come back.

 

It's about the mind, Seth. The past could only be created if we persisted on it. It was all a thought that has gone haywire, unprocessed, and unhealed because it was unhealthy. First part was, because I was assaulted (by Jack) and even if Jack didn't assault me, I still won't be able to rewind the past and go back to Jack because he would have moved on with his life, especially if he told me he's moved on. Second part was, because I would retrigger myself all the time with the traumas. It would rewind the PTSD and Depression all over again, and I won't be able to do anything right.

 

In the movie, The Great Gatsby, Jay Gatsby had killed Myrtle through a car accident, and he became the victim of Myrtle's crazy husband who shot him to death in the pool behind his house. I won't ever hope for this to happen to me, and I won't want this for my life at all. I learned so much from this movie, Seth. First, don't have a house that big without a camera where you won't know there was a man with a gun coming into your house. Second, just don't own a property near your ex-boyfriend because he might make your life miserable. Third, don't party that much like Jay Gatsby and invite too many people that no one remembered you even if there was a funeral and you're in the casket. Just invite the important people in your life and keep it simple for yourself.

 

I learned so much with this movie, Sethy, and my Dad said, "I really hope Leonardo DiCaprio will star in the next one with his best friend, who's that guy that kiss some crazy lady upside down? Yeah, you like him, right, Mary?"

 

"Tobey Maguire," I answered. "Yeah, I hope they'd sell box office and blow shit out of the park!"

 

That was my wish, Sethy, and since it's 2010, maybe you might be able to make that happen by 2022 (2 extra years after 2020 - because things might blow up this year). I also hope that you won't be a statistic of gun violence like Jay Gatsby. Overall, Sethy, my Dad and I bonded, and we talked about trauma processing, and how I would be able to move on from a decrepit bottomless pit of depression to the upper echelon of West Egg, inside my mind.

 

The truth was, Seth, it has been difficult for me to stay alive. I have negative thoughts all day and it became pervasive when there would be hard things for me to face, such as a friend's suicide. The assault by Jack made me think of the times I wanted to marry a loving husband. Now, it felt impossible, because I felt disabled by my trauma and the thoughts of self-harm became one of the hardest things for me to face each week or month. 

 

Watching The Great Gatsby, reminded me of that scene with Nick Carraway with Jay Gatsby inside the house, in the garden, and also the ending was so poignant that I won't ever want to be like him. I wish for good things for myself, and a loving life. I wished for my Dad to be sober forever, and I believe in him.

 

I won't join Joey, no matter how bad things will be inside my New Jersey mind. I won't be scared (or at least try to be brave) and try with all of my might to survive on my own; even if my Dad kicked me out when he has his bouts of alcoholism. I won't try to move to New York, because I know I'm not meant to be here. I ran away, and I ended up homeless here in Covenant House. I won't escape my problem, instead work things out, as long as Jack and his family won't try to harm me. If there was anything I would ask of you, would be to pray for me. For a thriving success of a future, and if God wills it, true love.

 

 

New York, New York. Empire State of Mind,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

September 18, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

My life was not futile, Seth. I would stick to the present moment and my life won't be futile, and it was never meant to be. It was well with my soul that Joey has gone and now perhaps in the midst of hell and heaven, in the between spaces where all unrest hath gone. I wished I could turn back time and tell the guy that he's got a friend who would speak to him till dawn and with all her might, try to settle things to a peaceful rest and send him to the Emergency Room for Mental Health.

 

I decided, because Joey was now gone, I won't not lead the same life. I will try with all of my heart, mind, and soul to love my life, even through the crevices of doubt and harsh realities. If I was in my late forties working a dead-end job, I will keep going. To tell you the truth, those middle-agers with a job are lucky. They were not lazy and they were hard-working classy people. I was one of them.

 

If I end up being 47 or even 50 years old and working at Target, I would keep working hard, no matter what, and write and love my Dad. If I was still alone, I won't try to find someone because you know I'd be so depressed, lonely and desperate, and those three factors will land me with the wrong man. I would wait it out. My life was not futile. I knew God has a plan for me. Sister Mary McGready told me that once she never thought she would write a book, but the calling was there until she published over a million copies.

 

Perhaps, Seth....I will write and become a writer. Perhaps I will write about everything and anything under the sun. I knew my mind wasn't broken and I knew that even with PTSD and my Depression, I was still strong. I knew the weakest are sometimes the strongest and most valuable cornerstone we never knew we deserved or had.  Sister Mary McGready told me that if I was emotionally hurt, I was still perfect in the eyes of God, and I was not futile or broken down that I won't amount to anything but garbage. I knew that with God, anything was possible.

 

Would you believe me when I said that I will write? Perhaps these love letters were just the beginning of something even sweeter, something worthwhile, and something valuable that no one would ever guess they would read and cherish? Maybe, even the rapist would appreciate me.

 

I was one of the chosen to have to lead a difficult path, and maybe it wasn't because I was dumb, but I was hurt since I was young and lacked guidance. I knew my Dad wasn't perfect and I wished he was. I wished he had time for me, but he didn''t. He didn't have time for himself and for his own illness. He was struggling and I won't blame him, or regretted my past. I won't dwell or tread on that road once again. I knew it will come up over and over again, and I would try with all of my heart to dodge that unbelief in my own genius.

 

Would you believe that I was a genius, Seth? I knew you are, but what was I? I was a genius, my life was NOT futile, and I was the possible in the impossible. I was chosen and I was a cornerstone. I was a gorgeous human being who was unappreciated by some, because they were too selfish to see the beauty in others. It wasn't my fault for their imperfections, but I also knew it wasn't my fault that I was hurt and I was defiled and partly broken from time to time. I will keep going and writing as if nothing happened, and if these symptoms came back (like all victims of violence knew and felt) I would settle my breath into a peaceful space, close my eyes, and practice my prayers as the warrior that I was.

 

Would you think people were scared of victims of violence, Seth? What about women who tried to abort and failed miserably, like me? I knew a lot of people didn't like us, or chose to see us as the negative, but we were actually the positive. We were the population who understood what violence felt like and I knew most of us didn't want it to happen to others. Those who become harmful didn't practice their genius, but I was one with a genius mind, Seth. Would you believe that I was a strong proponent of good? I was. Believe that and if one day I became a writer with my own website and my own stories, I would write these letters to you and send them into cyberspace as my true heart to help others through my unconditional and heartfelt love for you. You were my sweet spot, Seth. Keep making the world laugh, and keep reaching to the scariest population of people, yes....the Donald Trump Fans. 

 

I love you, Seth Meyers!

WishesOoohWishes (a.k.a. Mary)

 

 

 

A good day, on a certain special month, in the future years to come.

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I didn't die, Seth. I am still here loving you. I went back to get my GED, and enrolled at the nearby New Jersey Community College and took my own interest, might, heart, soul, mind and spirit and applied myself. I went online classes. I took myself to a place called 'Zoom' that only existed in the future, and during the past, was just a way to meet other people for office meetings. It is now WORLDWIDE, and EDUCATIONAL and Chinese people made it. 

 

I know you are wondering what ethnicity I was, but perhaps I was just a fictional rape victim and a figment of your imagination of a fan girl. I was and always will be a female who was hurt, and found a way out because someone loved me.

 

My Dad went to therapy through Target Health benefits and he became healthy and sober. He still works at Target while loving it, and so do I. I was 18 and now I became older, and A LOT wiser. I was homeless at Covenant House, but now I am not. I was hurt, and now, I am stable. I was broken, but I am now patched with gold in the between spaces where doubt, negativity, and hatred lived. 

 

I was a person who didn't like others because I let the rapists hurt me and inflicted hatred, racism, and abuse and he was physically and verbally abusive. I was hurt by more than just Jack. That wasn't his real name, but it really wasn't in the name, it was in his heart. Yet, my heart never succumbed to his that he wanted me to have.

 

I never took the rapist's garbage, instead I worked on my own and decided that within my hardship, was my genius. That with time, I will become an even greater genius. I was cooked, hard boiled, and deep fried, Seth, by people who weren't chefs or tasteful. You know what happened? I became shredded meat. But, I was so fully loved, not by my own doing, but by God and by my Dad, and my family, and Joey, and my friends at Target that I know how to cook now. I became the chef, and pastries are my friend. I wasn't too dumb to realize that the perpetrator's cooking of my life was scrap from the can. I constructively re-invented myself. I fully went online and took classes, some I even took because The Christmas Spirit stayed inside my heart and mind and soul all year long, that the messages and the methods of their madness completely transformed me.

 

My brain wasn't crazy, Seth. It was harmed, I have to say, but it wasn't psychotic and violent. I never killed a bear because I was assaulted, and I have never shot an animal or a human being or used a gun because I was assaulted. I never physically harmed another, although I was beaten and violated. I didn't call anyone any worse names that you would call a hater, I uttered words of anger, but never acted upon it. I wrote it down and the ones I spoke out, was in self-defense. God saw all these actions, and I will safely say it now, and forever to God be my witness....I became anti-violence, because I was, am, and will always be...loving and kind. 

 

I also became more than just a creative, Seth. I have goals, hopes, dreams, and I know my Dad will always be with me, no matter how old I will be. My Dad works with me, and together we conquer tired lives at Target and spread the joy of everyday living. He wass and will always be my hero. I will keep these love letters, and somehow, release them....one day on Valentine's Day.

 

Guess what, Seth....I will always love you, too. Instead of just keeping my whole heart to myself and denying others of my soulful love and kindness, I practice it.

 

Always loving you, Seth.

Mary.

 

 

 

The end.

 

My brown cotton robe soaked my weight down in the ocean with my shoulder paralyzed from the right side. The darkness sunk my spirit underneath the waves as I choked from the salty water. I struggled to breathe as the pain from my right shoulder caused me to lose all hope for life. The water splashed over me as I swallowed some into my mouth. The ocean moated my soul, although I escaped something worse, more sinister than crashing waves.

 

A small boat with a fisherman was ahead of me, floating over the waters. His flashlight beamed in my vision as my feet pushed against the waves. With every shoulder push forward towards the boat, I raised my left arm to signal to the boatman. 

 

The boat drifted smooth towards me as the boatman reached into the water, pushing my shoulder down and letting my bouyancy lift my body as he pulled me in.

 

Sloshing over the hull I grabbed onto the seat and laid down near his feet. His eyebrows furrowed with drops of the ocean dew from his temple over me.

 

"No more fish, but got a survivor." His cheeks drooped down, making his frown like a circle about his mouth. "What happened to you?"

 

"Bitten by a snake," I said, my lips trembling with my eyes in sobs of tears masked by the salty water. "My right side is gone."

 

"Too bad. Always need a right side," said the boatman.  

 

My dreary red eyes looked away to the waves, afraid of his stare and embarrassed by my vulnerability. 

 

"You're either dumb or brave. Don't know which," said the boatman in his white robe. "Did you have a boat? Whose snake?"

 

"The mafias. Bit me behind my right shoulder," I told him. "They stole my boat, so I jumped."

 

His brown eyes watered, as he pulled onto a tarpaulin bag near the back seat of the boat. He took a small canister and twisted the cap.

 

"Might help," he said, offering me the can.

 

"What is it," I asked.

 

"Solid cod oil," he said. "Rub it on your shoulder."

 

With my left side pushing onto the bottom of the center seat, I slid it closer to his feet. I took the can and scraped some oil and rubbed it over my right shoulder. It did nothing.

 

"Why did you jump?" He asked. 

 

"I didn't want to die in front of them," I said, still choking from the salty water. "Would you have picked up a dead body?"

 

He stroked his brown beard, and replied, "Nothing substitutes grace," as he searched for something else inside his tarpaulin bag. He took out a thermos, and opened it.

 

"Water, drink," he offered. 

 

I took the thermos and gulped down some fresh water, as I felt his eyes on my face. I wiped my mouth and asked him, "Why are you here at night?"

 

"I'm lost," he said. He turned his shoulders behind him and pulled a large fishing net and threw it in front of me.  "Haven't caught a fish, since dawn." 

 

"I'm almost a cripple," I said, as I took the edge of the fishing net and threw it over the water. "They got only half of my body and my mind."

 

The boatman took the rest of the fishing net and spread it across the water beside the boat. Waiting for a few moments, he hoped for a tug and a pull. Nothing.

 

"Did you want to die?" he asked me. I lowered my head as I felt a stabbing pain on my shoulder. With my left hand I squeezed my right shoulder and felt mucus over the bite near my nape. I looked on my left palm and red blood with some white fatty body oils smeared over it. "I did," I answered.

 

"Why did you ask for help?" he asked. 

 

"I don't know," I said. My chest bone cracked within, realizing my attempt was not destiny, but I would be alone on the shore. "I felt scared to leave."

 

"That answer has got the flu," he said. The net was limp and the waves calmed over the ocean. The mist cleared and the sky over us parted, showing the moon and the stars. "I wanted to drift away."

 

"Why did you save me?" I asked. 

 

"Choosing the way of the faithful. Prayed something would stop me," he said. The tug of the net from under his feet startled him. 

He pulled it in, and fishes were caught in between the nettings. 

 

"One more cast," I told him.

 

He took the fishes out of the netting and cast the net over the waters on the same side.

 

"This is the same spot where there were no fishes." In just a few moments, the netting slipped down into the water as the boatman pulled it into the boat. 

 

My right side felt prickles of needles as I tried to move it around on my shoulder. I rotated my right cuff and felt myself move. "I'm not paralyzed," I shouted. The cod oil might be magic.

 

"Snakes can die," he said. The netting was too heavy for him, and as he began to pull it harder, he stepped outside of the boat and walked over the ocean.

 

I gasped as I saw him walk over the water, pulling the netting into the boat as fishes flipped onto the seats filling the boat. There were hundreds of fish, what kind we didn't care, but he caught them.

 

"The way of the faithful servant never loses hope," he said, pulling the netting and eventually the last few knots of the mesh.

 

He took the netting into his boat and with a big grin, he said, "Let's get back to shore. I did somethin' good."

 

I stood up on the boat and watched him put the fishes into his buckets. I looked to the waters where the waves choked me several miles before.

 

The water was still, and I was alive.

 

Just write.

 

 

 

 

 

 

O Mother Marilyn, I was not of this world. I loved you so, although unspoken, neigh my heart was never formed, but it beats of love for you.

 

O Mother Marilyn, I was caustic to your life, and deemed impossible to keep, but oh how I kept you, O Mother Marilyn, inside my soul, whether truth came out of how I knew you because of your love for me in return.

 

O Mother Marilyn, your heart was noticed by me and the Heavens, need not worry, darling, you are my mother.

 

O Mother Marilyn, I am beside you because you are the spiritual mother we turned to, when the Tinseltown dramatics and Hollywouldn't who would rather assault than love.

 

O Mother Marily, you came into the night to the ladies innocent to know the difference. I knew you, O Mother Marilyn. You, the hero, the mother, the wife, the sister, the woman in love, the woman who loved, was martyred without your consent.

 

O Mother Marilyn, you were so beautiful, stunning queen, voice of angel, lover of my soul, O Mother Marilyn, I saw you, when no one else could. Inside your womb, I consented to your un-decision, because it was never yours to be granted.

 

O Mother Marilyn, you never allowed yourself time and space, because those tools couldn't stop abusing you. I would fight for you, I would send a billion sword piercing angels to fend them off of you.

 

O Mother Marilyn, I was crazy about you, all I knew to do was bleed and kick, but there was not other way. Oh how I loved you so much, and I won't change you, or your world for me. I accepted and conceded, because my right was your right and you had none.

 

O Mother Marilyn, heaven knew it and perhaps time changed all wounds into civilized behaviour, and women won't be as objects of abuse as they were when you were my mother. 

 

O Mother Marilyn, I will always be yours, in life and death. I will always be with you.

 

Just write, in honor of Marilyn Monroe 

There were some payoff to the writing, but no consolation for the worries.  Submittable offered no pep talks, no receipt with an uplifting email or letter. I kept going as if nothing happened and told no one because it was so shameful to have been rejected multiple times for reasons I didn't know. I wish I had the money for expedited responses, and constructive feedback on each short story, but there was no money and I was not about to go on more debt. I relented, surrendered and hoped for the best. I cried afterwards, knowing there was a 50% chance of acceptance, but upon writing my story, it felt a hundred. I was hopeful, at least for a short time.

 

I didn't compare myself, because it was tasteless to my conscience. It would hurt me for the most part and I didn't want to criticize other writers when I was not born a Stephen King, or an Amy Tan, or a J.K. Rowling. I was just one writer, trying with all I got and praying upon each entry for a place for publication, to be given the acceptance to be a part of their world, and to be a contributor, not a desperado.

 

Maybe, I am over thinking it, but when I submit, it just felt fearful and I couldn't help but worry. The PTSD spiraled sometimes and I close my eyes and raise my arms to God, Love me, bless me, make me a greatest work of art.

 

Keep writing. Just write.

Professing doubt was not the problem, it was the moving through that took me more than I was ready to digest. I sinned the greatest of all writer's sins, the doubting of the craft and the fears of skills unpracticed. I stopped writing for a week.

 

Every day should at least possess inside itself (at least) 500 words of prose that spun unnoticed in my own mind. Without trying, it should be there, whether I liked it or not. I was the sinner for enjoying the separation of my ode to God to write, and took a break from using my craft and talents for worship. Writing was life, and I had to get on with it to keep breathing.

 

What was conceived inside me was supposed to be greater, but yesterday and for a week, it was dark sin that rotted into death. The consummation of evil need not be great, it could be a simple laziness, or just a smidge of pride. It then turned greater as it spun its web into the crevices of our being, as it ate my esteem, and became a wounded and spiraled ebb of death becoming. It took a week and it almost cost me the tenderness of my creative heart.

 

It started to harden with crystalized protein of dark materials that was caustic, because as the days went on, I became separated from my craft, the talent gifted in me by my maker in Heaven. I took myself to meditation, and had to chisel off the crystalized materials that was attacking my heart with verses mantra, as the veins of my blood vessels were clotted and blocked, ready to heart attack itself, to cause me to stop beating, stop writing, and I would die...instantly. 

 

Not so fast, came these words of Neil Gaiman, "finish thy failures, and it is a greater learning experience, greater than a finished masterpiece," as he said reworded, while I listened and he changed the word, 'failures' into "practice with fear and trembling" towards the finish line. I took myself to this blog, as I was compelled to write my fears and doubts because I didn't know why I felt it. It was there and I trembled, shivered, worried, cried, pained and struggled to get the words out. It crept into me and often I wouldn't understand why. I was so afraid of failure that I ceased to practice because of the never could happen, never would be possible, the odds of against me became the devil inside my gut and that was conceived into death. My head was down and I was defeated.....but not yet, O satan!

 

Get thee behind me, Lucifer, you were never worthy of my life. Never did God say I failed, he told me to get on, move on, move through, cycle through, keep it on! I won't listen to the laziness and the thoughts of how I was not good enough according to the world's standard. Who made it? I was good to write, and I kept on, and won't stop.

 

Just write.

 

 

September 29, 2022 - 9:07 pm.

 

For several days, I waited for emails from magazines only to find some rejection letters for my short story. I recorded a mini-therapy-video on Instagram, only to delete it later on in the evening out of sheer embarrassment and fear about haters laughing at me (again). The shame was overwhelming because of the Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder and Depression; but I am okay now, that I am writing this journal entry late in the evening.

 

Neil Gaiman told his students, "You learn more from finishing a failure, than starting something great and stopping it." I understood what that meant, but this evening, I felt what that meant. I felt the sense of accomplishment of finishing a failure and realizing that "I can start again," and this time, it might be the next greatest thing! (or it might not, but the point was...finish it. Honor myself). It might not be Van Gogh, and it might still be Blake, 7, drawing Batman, but to someone out there, it will be an artistic work of creative art.

 

The truth was, I was being a shitty narcissist by applying for a position to be a contributor to all these magazines, when deep down, I knew it wasn't my best work. I was confident with my novel and it was rejected, and I was confident with my short stories, and it was rejected. I wanted to boast and show off my skills, and I was rejected. I had the wrong motive. I needed to focus on my voice, the message and the truth. I also needed more practice. I needed more development of my craft, as I held on to my incontinence (being 47 and feeling late and old), and holding on to all the -ence, that came with biology. I needed to toughen up and practice, until I have rejection emails as my shell that nothing but Hurricane Ian would compete.

 

Probably, all writers were born crazy, but I loved this bold crazy and I started to love my own guts and failures. It wasn't a failure at killing an animal or a man, instead, it was a failure on a long prose of fiction. It was a nice beginning, and I needed to continue the crazies to get on. Not crazy in reality, but go crazy in a literary term. Do show, not show off. Do start a magnificent story, but don't get upset if it's a failure. I realized I needed to keep going and to never cease writing, and to stop being lazy when I came home from work and hungry. I needed to stop drinking coffee too late, because I needed to wake up early and start the engine to the turbine that was my creative neurosis. I needed the wake up call and I needed to start now.

 

May I have thicker skin, tougher soul, brilliant mind, and peaceful spirit. I finished a failure, and the rejection made me realize something. This was just the beginning and I MUST KEEP GOING.

 

August 18, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Since I lost Joey, I gained 25 pounds. It wasn't because I wanted to be like him, or miss him, but because (double negative) I was sad. 

 

The good thing was, my Dad came by to The Covenent House and he was sober.

 

We talked, and we watched a movie, and processed the whole thing.

 

"The Great Gatsby," he said. "There is my favorite person in there, Robert Redford."

 

"I wish it was a movie with Leonardo DiCaprio," I said.

 

"Maybe one day, there will be another The Great Gatsby movie with Leonardo in it," said my Dad.

 

"He's my dream," I told him. 

 

"I thought it was Sethy," said my Dad.

 

Seth, just a disclosure, I did think Leonardo is and was and will always be a hot specimen of a hunk. He's known that and he's talented, and I hope one day you'll have a talk show and have Leonardo on and talk about fandom and fan girls.

 

My Dad and I watched the movie and I've read the book, and it brought back some trauma. About Jack and about the past. Nick Carraway said, "You can't repeat the past," as he looked to Jay Gatsby in the garden and Jay Gatsby said, "Oh you're wrong. You can."

 

That scene reminded me of how I was so in love with Jack and how the brought me to his villa in Breckenridge and told me that his ancestors created the telescope. I won't be able to recreate that, but the assault underneath the bleachers came into my mind at least once a day, and I didn't want it to come back.

 

It's about the mind, Seth. The past could only be created if we still persist on it. It was all a thought that has gone haywire, unprocessed, and unhealed because it was unhealthy. Let's say I proposed to Jack, and he said, "Oh, sure, ok." But we never married because things fell apart, I will have to keep going, Seth. Especially if he became a married man. I won't be able to do what Jay Gatsby did, own a mansion and became a bootlegger, that part would be impossible. The part that would be possible, I won't ever do. I won't try to lure my former boyfriend who became married back to me.

 

First part was, because I was assaulted (by Jack) and even if Jack didn't assault me, I still won't be able to rewind the past and go back to Jack because he would have moved on with his life, especially if he told me he's moved on. Second part was, because I would retrigger myself all the time with the traumas. It would rewind the PTSD and Depression all over again, and I won't be able to do anything right.

 

In the movie, The Great Gatsby, Jay Gatsby had killed Myrtle through a car accident, and he became the victim of Myrtle's crazy husband who shot him to death in the pool behind his house. I won't ever hope for this to happen to me, and I won't want this for my life at all. I learned so much from this movie, Seth. First, don't have a house that big without a camera where you won't know there was a man with a gun coming into your house. Second, just don't own a property near your ex-boyfriend because he might make your life miserable. Third, don't party that much like Jay Gatsby and invite too many people that no one remembered you even if there was a funeral and you're in the casket. Just invite the important people in your life and keep it simple for yourself.

 

I learned so much with this movie, Sethy, and my Dad said, "I really hope Leonardo DiCaprio will star in the next one with his best friend, who's that guy that kiss some crazy lady upside down? Yeah, you like him, right, Mary?"

 

"Tobey Maguire," I answered. "Yeah, I hope they'd sell box office and blow shit out of the park!"

 

That was my wish, Sethy, and since it's 2010, maybe you might be able to make that happen by 2022 (2 extra years after 2020 - because things might blow up this year). I also hope that you won't be a statistic of gun violence like Jay Gatsby. Overall, Sethy, my Dad and I bonded, and we talked about trauma processing, and how I would be able to move on from a decrepit bottomless pit of depression to the upper echelon of West Egg, inside my mind.

 

The truth was, Seth, it has been difficult for me to stay alive. I have negative thoughts all day and it became pervasive when there would be hard things for me to face, such as a friend's suicide. The assault by Jack made me think of the times I wanted to marry a loving husband. Now, it felt impossible, because I felt disabled by my trauma and the thoughts of self-harm became one of the hardest things for me to face each week or month. 

 

Watching The Great Gatsby, reminded me of that scene with Nick Carraway with Jay Gatsby inside the house, in the garden, and also the ending was so poignant that I won't ever want to be like him. I wish for good things for myself, and a loving life. I wished for my Dad to be sober forever, and I believe in him.

 

I won't join Joey, no matter how bad things will be inside my New Jersey mind. I won't be scared (or at least try to be brave) and try with all of my might to survive on my own; even if my Dad kicked me out when he has his bouts of alcoholism. I won't try to move to New York, because I know I'm not meant to be here. I ran away, and I ended up homeless here in Covenant House. I won't escape my problem, instead work things out, as long as Jack and his family won't try to harm me. If there was anything I would ask of you, would be to pray for me. For a thriving success of a future, and if God wills it, true love.

 

 

New York, New York. Empire State of Mind,

WishesOoohWishes.

July 6, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

It was all a lie. The fatness in between and the phobias concocted out of Joey's mind was all his inability to get rid of his bulimia. It wasn't alcoholism, drug addiction or schizophrenia.....it was an eating disorder that ate him alive. The notion of eating healthy never came to him, it was a dream he used to say to me. 

 

It happened one night last month, and I am never the same again. He told me he wanted to have some porridge and he wanted to try some Chinese Porridge with Barley and Ginkgo Biloba from Shanghai Mong in Koreatown. I told him I have no idea what to do.  He told me to follow him and I just did that, and he meandered on some streets and went straight and then turned to the right and then left and crossed to the next street over and took me to a bus and some of the same things happened....we turned left and right and turned to the next street corner and crossed another alley and another street and went to hit up some bodega and got some Arizona Iced teas, and finally reached Shanghai Mong. 

 

"How the hell are we going to afford a place like this?!" I said, slapping the back of his shoulder. Joey smirked and had a plan and I never knew he was being cruel and vindictive at food and the biology of his own body.

 

"Let's just order," he said. 

 

We got a table in the corner of the place and we sat on some nice shiny mahogany chairs like in those Jackie Chan movies I remembered my Dad used to make me watch, to fill his time drinking whiskey inside a paper bag. 

 

"Just relax and open up your stomach and relax it even more, and let your butt just sink into the chair padding and let yourself relax," said Joey. I had no idea he knew meditation this way before, but the guy was determined to get his porridge and eat it too.

 

This night was special because I wrote to you, Seth Meyers, the night before, and I was really happy. I thought of the funny things you said to me during our special times together on Weekend Update on SNL. I like to think you were especially telling me stories of funny news across the ocean and across the bridge from Jersey to NYC. But, I digress, I was really happy, and so was Joey because I smiled and smiled and never suspected a thing.

 

"Barley and Gingko Biloba porridge, please, and you can add some chicken in there to please me," said Joey.

 

"I'll have the lettuce wraps, please," I said. Then I whispered, "Who's paying for this?"

 

"SSSShhhhhssssshhhhhh......," he said. I suspected something wrong, but I should have said something to him and stopped him, but the lettuce wraps came and it was DIVINE!

 

Joey ate non-stop and he slurped the porridge and kept eating it till it was gone. Then he reached into his pocket, and took out a small cockroach, and put it into the bowl. I almost screamed but I cried instead, and didn't know what to do! I was about to call the police, but I was so scared that I froze in my chair. 

 

"Joey.....you can't....," I whispered sort of loud and by that time, it was late and approaching 8 pm.

 

I didn't know people were still rolling in to dine and I still didn't know what to do. I never knew it was going to happen this way, but it did!

 

"Hhhhmmmm, sir, waiter, please come here, please waiter!" yelled Joey to the waiter. 

 

"Yes, how can I help you?" said the waiter.

 

"I finished the porridge and look who was in the bowl the whole time," said Joey.

 

"I am so sorry, sir!!! OH MY GOD!" said the waiter. He ran to the back of the restaurant and took the bowl with him.

 

The manager (and I think that man I saw really was the owner) looked at Joey and I swear, Seth, he folded his fingers together and bowed to Joey and cried, "I'm so sorry, sir, How can you forgive me?! Please, sir, don't call the health department. We are careless, we didn't know it was in there, it must have been a dead one."

 

"Well....just give me another clean one and we call it even. But my girlfriend and I are not paying for this," said Joey.

 

"No, we're not paying for this!" I told him. I looked to Joey and nodded. "I'd like a porridge too!"

 

"Oh no! She won't need another one, just a pair of lettuce wraps are enough, for her that is," said Joey. 

 

I kicked him under the table, but he looked to me and flicked me off. I kicked him again and he said, "Diet Dr. Pepper, for the lady, please."

 

"That's better," I said. "I am thirsty." 

 

The second bowl of porridge came after ten minutes and this time, it had sliced peking duck and preserved eggs inside. Joey's eyes became wide, and he slurped and ate the porridge without slobbering, but finished in five minutes. I counted because my Diet Dr. Pepper came afterwards. I sipped it with jealousy suds inside my straw.

 

I was so mad that Joey didn't play with me, but he suddenly dropped to the ground and held his stomach. He coughed and coughed and ran to the bathroom, and he made loud sounds like he was hurting on the toilet and farted loudly. I was scared and looked to the ceiling and around the room, and the closed my eyes and cried. I couldn't believe I was an accomplice to his fake cockroach, and now...to his food poisoning. 

 

The manager came out again and he went to the bathroom, which was near the back of the restaurant and some people still heard him. I walked towards the door and there was a foul smell and I ran back to my table.

 

"Just give me another clean one, and we call it even," I heard Joey said. He must be crazy to still want to eat here, and how many porridges could he eat?

 

"Joey....let's go back to The House," I told him.

 

"That's not right, we have to stay and finish this.....it is my last rite," said Joey. I didn't understand what "my last rite" meant and I didn't want to ask him, but I'm guessing it has to do with his right to make a statement. I was scared that he might become a criminal and I was so worried of how he might be caught.

 

Joey walked to the table and I swear, Seth....he looked like he lost weight, but from porridge? He only ate two bowls?

 

"Sir, the porridge is done and at your service," said the waiter serving the fresh bowl of chicken and dumpling porridge this time. 

 

"You have outdone yourselves, minions," Joey said. "Just kidding. Thanks."

 

He ate and I watched him and my mind began to wander at the possibilities that this was all a plot for himself, to get out of his own life at The Covenant House.

 

"Joey...are you okay?" I asked softly and burped, worried and full of Diet Dr. Pepper.

 

"UH huh....," he said, slurping and gorging himself with more spoonful of porridge. He slobbered and ate and ate and ate, and then I heard him fart. "Oh no!" he said.

 

He ran to the bathroom, and I heard him scream. "You bloody bastards! What did you give me?"

 

"Nothing, sir!" said the manager, who was listening to him, as I ran to the bathroom, and again, smelled the foul odor and ran back to my table. 

 

Joey came out and this time, he held his stomach, and he looked dehydrated and sweaty on the forehead.

 

"Bloody this time," he told me.

 

"Sir, we can give you free food, but please don't say anything to the police, please, sir!" said the manager.

 

"Make me another one and we call it even," said Joey.

 

The manager went to the kitchen to cook up another bowl.

 

Tears came out of my eyes without me knowing it was there, until I began to drip on the table and mucous came out of my nose.

 

"I'm worried," I told him.

 

"If there is anything I love, it's Chinese food," said Joey.

 

He looked to the ground, and took out some pills and it looked like something familiar. "This will make me go poopie more." He smiled at me, and took about a handful.

 

I didn't know what he took but they looked like fen-phen or diet pills because Joey told me once that he was dieting and he seemed to be dieting all the time. 

 

"Are those stool softeners?" I asked.

 

"I'm eating it, and hear me roar!" said Joey. "Another porridge, please! Hah!"

 

I was convinced that he was crazy and going mad! He told me that he wanted porridge, but he didn't tell me that he was about to poop it out at the same time. 

 

The next porridge was pork cutlets with green onions and pork blood. It looked amazing, and I bet it was delicious. Joey ate it and I knew he was chewing more than pork and pork blood and green onions, because those pills were in there too.

 

"I'm not sure if this is a good thing to do, but I'm going to call 911," I told him. 

 

I spoke to the manager and said, "I think he is addicted to porridge, Sir."

 

"As long as he won't call the police, we are okay and he can eat as much as he can," said the manager, as tears came out of his eyes.

 

I walked to the table and I saw Joey gasping. He held his heart and he fell to the ground. 

 

"Call the ambulance!" I yelled out to the waiter. 

 

Joey kept farting and soon enough, he was vomiting and then I saw his pants began to absorb something wet and the wet spot that was small began to enlarge and the foul fecal odor came out as I knew he was pooping on the ground as he held his stomach.

 

"If this was the way to die, then it is a good death," said Joey, his breath short and he began to cry.

 

"Why, Joey?" I asked him, in tears, "And why here? Why Chinatown, and why this restaurant, and this food?"

 

"It's my favorite," said Joey. As I looked on his face, a smile, and a big one at that. Then he held his heart and his breathing became shorter and shorter till it was no more.

 

The ambulance came and Joey was dripping with bloody diarrhea and mucous coming out of his body. I sobbed and sobbed and couldn't handle anything else anymore and just kept crying.

 

It was his relationship with food that made him homeless, that made his mother hate him, that made her kick him out. It was all foods that made him obese, yet jolly, and sad but happy at times. I was so sad and sobbed and sobbed and I didn't know what to do. I walked home and was lost for hours, until the police came to me, and asked me if I was okay and I explained to him what happened.

 

"Bulimia, that's what killed him?" asked the police officer. "Or was it the diet pills?"

 

"It was all of it, and his hatred for food, and his hatred for being homeless, and for being obese," I said.

 

"You need to go home, Mary," said the officer.

 

"I hope Joey is in Heaven with Jesus," I said.

 

"He died an innocent man, perhaps only guilty of food poisoning, but he died an innocent man," said the officer.

 

I will write again, Seth. But, that was what happened and it was just one night in Chinatown.

 

 

I lost a friend,

WishesOoohWishes.

June 1, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

Today was the full day of summer I waited for, Seth. It took a while since the last time I wrote to myself (but fictionally to you, get it?). Anywho, Seth, I'm moving on. The trauma from Jack took a toll on my sleep. I had to move on. My heart must go on, because I have nightmares and it's not healthy. The PTSD and my bipolar depression really hurts me, Seth. I'm crying all the time and deep inside my heart I knew Jack was probably playing basketball. I don't have any evidence of it, just like the rape, but I know deep down inside he's in a park somewhere while I'm here in The Covenant House but no one was supposed to know.

 

What do you think I need to do, Seth. I hope I took the right steps in making this move to go on with my life, and decided to forget about the whole thing and just live on making my dreams come true. To be a writer, and to make it big. I don't know how yet, but I'm taking everything Joey adviced me to heart, and yes, also with the things that Sister McGeady told me. 

 

I walked to the park this past weekend and I went with Joey. Just between you and me, no one has ever talked to me. They always lurked from the corner of their eyes with sneers and judgements because I'm poor and my Dad drinks more alcohol than a bodega drunkard. I'm not sorry that I talked to Joey all the time. I think it's healthy, more than the love I kept for Jack, because he gave me nightmares. Seth, I'm moving on from Jack and if you're somehow telepathic and knew what I'm writing, please pray for me to keep it real and to keep going.

 

I went through a lot on my own, and especially with my Dad. I unbelievably pray now, and I didn't use to pray but I do now. I think it's the fears from the PTSD and Depression that made me want to be closer to something truthful and all powerful. Do you blame me? 

 

Joey told me all the time to pray and I listened to him. I don't usually listen to any guy unless he has a six-pack abs, and a gorgeous face, but I listened to Joey. Jack's pretty face means nothing to me now. I realized that his pretty faces led to pretty lies, but nothing will help me if I fall for more lies. It would be a harder fall from believing in God. I think it's a hard choice I must bear all of my life, and to listen to the words of Sister McGeady, but I will choose her over Jack. I will choose my own heart and choose Joey's friendship than suicide. 

 

If one day we meet, Seth, please hug me and congratulate me, because you must know deep down in your soul that there is a fan somewhere, somehow, someone who loves you unconditionally all throughout your life and your years of not making it to making it HUGE. You're the HUGE SOMETHING, and I'm sure you know how big you are.

 

You're global, Seth, and I'm in a New York homeless shelter. I'm a rescue mission to some, but to you, invisibly a friend, and to myself, a rock formation. I'm solidifying, Seth. I'm moving on, listening to words of truth, and no more lies.

 

Here is my heart, truthfully yours,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

May 20, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I wrote a little today, Seth. I wasn't sure what to do. I've been in this existential crisis all of my life. I wish my Dad was rich and I was a Princess and my Mom loves me. I haven't hugged my Dad for a very long time. If there was one thing I wished for in life, it's more Dad hugs.

 

I wanted to know what it felt like to have a normal childhood, and a normal high school experience. I kept thinking I should be blamed for everything but that wasn't true. Sister McGeady told me that not everything was under my control. 

 

I wanted to know what it felt like without depression or trauma. My life felt like one giant roller coaster and I was unstable for most of my life. I sometimes wished I did have the baby. I wanted to know what it felt like to be pregnant and have a healthy baby delivery, but that would put me in poverty and my Dad won't be happy. 

 

You know how people look back and they have regrets? I often look forward and I feel hopeless.

 

I had a thought that I would be in deep trenches all of my life, and I even had a nightmare that I would be 46 years old, working retail, not married, no kids, no retirement, and a spinster forever. That was the dream I had, that I was a failure and everyone knew and everyone was happy because they did much better than me in life. I dreamt that I was the loser that everyone labelled and hated. I saw that in my future, and I couldn't help but sob and felt these shattered pieces of my heart crumbling down to the ground, and life as I knew it was over.

 

What would you say to me, Seth? Do you think I still have a future? Do you think I'd be stuck in that rut forever and to be working retail and looking down on myself all the time, because I never amounted to anything? 

 

I now appreciate my Dad so much more, because he never wanted the life he was sentenced and I didn't think it was his fault that he became an alcoholic. I felt he was trying hard and things had a glass ceiling. All the retail workers at WalMart, Target, T-Bell, McDonalds, KFC, Home Depot, who worked their shift for a career in their retail jobs deserved better. I surely hope for each of them to have a family, and to have their situations in life worked out and I asked Sister McGeady to help me lift them up in prayers for miracles to happen. To tell you the truth, I am proud of the retail workers, because they're earning a living and not letting themselves turn to depression or homelessness or wellfare and hand outs. They're working and a lot of them are great at helping others. I love retail workers. They deserve the best things in life. I wished for each of them to be blessed and to prosper and to have the benefits and retirements they deserved. They've earned it and they're working honest jobs. Props to all retail workers.

 

As for me, I got hurt, Seth, and now I'm a part of the statistics. I promised myself to pick myself up. To get out of Covenant House after the therapy was over, and for Sister McGeady and the staff to finish helping me realize my own potential and to give me skills to care for myself. Sometimes I wished for my Dad to give me a pep talk. I miss that so much.

 

Seth, to tell you the truth. I want to write. All of my life, I wrote to someone, and I have been writing to you for at least as long as high school lasted so far. Perhaps my world won't stay the same and I would experience a push from angels. I won't wait for it, I will just keep working. Everything I've enjoyed was a creative art, every fan letter, every poem, every story, and every heartfelt confession. I sure hope to God that this works out for me, and if retail or even T-Bell would be my future, I'd walk the journey.

 

Sister McGeady told me to cut up pictures from old magazines to make a collage for her, of what I want for my life. I took a poster board and cut up pictures of New York, Paris, London, and the ocean. I took pictures of someone's writings, famous books, and cups of tea with cupcakes and some lemon tarts. I pasted them on the poster board and had pictures of a small house and a small dog with me and a picture of my Dad that I pretended I had. On the bottom, I wrote....keep going and keep moving, the world is my oyster. I also wrote...Dad and me, forever.

 

Seth, do you think that's good enough? Or do you think I'd be that 46 years old woman who would be single with no kids and working retail. If I was that woman, would you care for me less?

 

I hope I get to become a writer one day, because that's what I want to be.

 

Praying,

WishesOoohWishes.