Diana Kurniawan

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 17 considered young to be a rape victim? How old can a rape victim be, Sethy? How young is young to be raped, and how old is old to be raped? 

 

Jenna was 10. I thought that was pretty young, don'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 are so many victims that we're not alone, but because of that, I was suppposed to be powerful to survive the trauma with them. Do you get what I mean, Seth? It's truly not as complicated as Drunk Uncle. Sometimes, I don'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 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."

 

"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 wonder if God forgives me, Seth,

WishesOoohWishes.

 

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 can 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'm 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 I let her take the journal and she said she will 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 can be published in England and it would be an offer I can'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 see through 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 was not invited. I won't come with them if I were invited, because they smelled like a joint and it stinks 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 just 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 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's gotten worse because I'm pregnant. I'm suicidal. I want to die, Seth, and I don't want to tell anyone in case they will call the police on me. My Dad doesn't know and I have an appointment to abort in a couple of days. I'm staying away from school because the pain in my pelvic is so raw and rough on me that I can't even sit down. 

 

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

 

If I can 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 gets filled up, then He'll start another jar. Somehow that fact hurts me, because I believe it and I know God is watching, but I've screwed myself over and I bet Jack only has a tiny tube instead of a bottle because he's a prick and he doesn't care about me. He hung up and I can't call him anymore because I don't want to get sued by his rich parents for stalking him or harassment. 

 

Seth, I think I might have more than one jar of tears. I'm so worried because how many jars will I have to cry in my life time, if I'm this sick and raped by 17? Do you think I'll have a long life? I know you're not with me, but if you were in front of me, would you hurt yourself? I want to end it all. 

 

I can't handle it, so I'm taking 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 want to die, because It feels 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 the 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 will 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 want to dream, all the time. I want to go away. I want 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's not far and I heard some people say that you walk to work. Maybe, we can have coffee and I can walk with you on your way to the Rockfeller Plaza and you can give me a pep-talk about boys and why they hurt me.

 

I wish you can tell me why Jack would rape me and not even talk to me afterwards. I wish you can tell me why Jack would hurt my life at all, knowing how much I was crazy about him. I wish you have all of the answers. I wish you were my big brother, maybe my life would have been 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 is 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 make me smile, Seth Meyers, and I thank you. I think I've met plenty people, but for some reason, as anyone could identify with, only a handful comes into your mind. Statistically, it is impossible for anyone to be in anyone's mind at the same time, especially for a poignant purpose in life. This role is not for just anyone to fill, and this person may be an Oscar winner of an actor, but people will know their real characters, it comes with time. I believe in you, Seth Meyers, and your character, although in public view, you could make anyone smile. Congratulations, you are a beautiful comedian and a gorgeous actor. I am extremely proud.

 
If you are wondering who the people who harness the wind for me, are? They are the people who are in my position, the people who love you. They don't know how profound their lives are, because I understand how they admire and their reason for inspiration. I think, sometimes we need a good person to look at, and to remind ourselves, that we are as tasteful, delightful, and beautiful as they are. There is comfort in affinity and also, we sometimes just want to smile, and laugh, OUT LOUD!!! Sometimes, that's all we need.

 
There are others, the ones who just make you cry and fill you with the fuzziest, warmest, and most genuine heart felt emotion to move you. I want to be one of those people, and I wish for others to learn and become that person too, as I am learning myself. I want to make a difference in my own life, and I am happy there were others who did make a difference in my life, without even knowing. There is always a reason for everything, and if there aren't, maybe the reason will show up with time. I hope all those reasons are so good, that everyone could make it in life, just like you, Seth Meyers. Maybe, out of the millions of people who love you, someone will learn to be as profound. Then they will be the inspiration for someone else, as you are 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 haven't been 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'm turning into him. He said he wants me to go to college, but I don't want to right now. I'm not in the right mindset.

 

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

 

If my Dad threw me out of the house, I'm 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 feels like it has a screwdriver stirring my intestines. It hurts and I can'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 think those jars of tears are filling up fast, Seth. I have been crying, 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 wish 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'm the fuck up. I took an extra Zoloft tonight, and if I don't wake up, you'll know why. 

 

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

 

I am garbage,

WishesOoohWishes.

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

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's 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 s a two bedroom in Jersey City and there is a bodega nearby. We have a couch and a fridge and an armoire in front of the couch where the television is and that's where I watch 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 wish 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 I 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's 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?

 

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 Trevor 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 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 think of you, although life was a struggle from not having a soul to love, somehow my soul found solace. For that, I am transferring 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 are just experiences, and I hope they will pass its course and skip my life, forever thereon; because I don'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 are the only thing keeping me sane. The fairytale I wished for came to life with you although it is not real, and only through the television. I would watch you on Saturday Night Live, my favorite show, and on the website, and having you through those devices comforted me and helped mend my heart.

 

I don't mind seeing you through television at all, because I know you are real and although you don't know me, I love you for who you are, because I could tell you are amazing inside out. I know you appreciate this love, although menial to so many people, this love is 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 are 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 insurances, 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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~"TRIGGER WARNING"~

 

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 ae 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 pay the bills on time. I'm happy about the pay raise, but my dreams with Jack makes me happier, except it's all over. My reality deteriorated into a vortex of depression and whisps of darkness entering my thoughts.

 

The sadness is cold to my body at this moment, and even breathing is not comforting me.  I feel 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 want to confront him at school tomorrow. I need to hear his words and the truth. I don't want to imagine what he would say or predict what would happen. I need to know for myself.

 

Tomorrow will come, and I'm 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 slants 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'm failing English, and I haven'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 swear, in every episode of Glee, the guy always made the call. Maybe I was watching too few episodes to really know the truth. I mean, 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 call each other and even text. 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'm not sure of anything at all. I felt it was my fault I feel this way, because Jack said it takes 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 do 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, Marilu 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 hangs out with him sometimes, because they've been 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 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 push 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 wish 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'm so scared. I wish you were here to be my friend. I wish you are my big brother.

 

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. The inside of my veins felt hot and I boiled inside my body, not out of anger, but out of fears.

 

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. With my right hand, I pushed on the ground, 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 have to call in sick. I'm so stupid. What did I do to myself?

 

Seth, I ruined my life.

WishesOoohWishes.

 

 

 

 

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 trust him. He always has a pack of it inside his bag. His appetite for sex is beyond my control. I can't seem to know when he wants to have it, but I just let him because I don't want to see him go away. It's the last thing I want in my life right now, because if Jack goes, I will have no one to love me. Dad is in love with Brenda and I don't  really know anyone else in town.

 

Mabel is a frenemy I think. She seems nice, but she likes Jack too much. I always hold Jack's hand tightly, especially with Mabel around, because I don't want to let him go, and sex is our bridge to each other.

 

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

I think he's the best thing that ever happened in my life.

 

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

 

He is tender afterwards, and he caresses my cheeks and holds me tight. He says that I am his first love, and he is mine. I don't ever want to lose him. It will be the end of my life.

 

If Dad is gone, as I sometimes feel like it might happen, I will try to survive, but if Jack is gone, I'm in deep trouble. Dad is not there all the time, so I'm used to it, and I figure, I can live with Jack's family. I know his family loves me.

 

Seth, if you meet me, I am taken by Jack. Also, I know you have a girlfriend, at least that's the rumor around school. All the SNL fans talk about it. We have a comedy club at school and we talk about SNL all the time, and although I'm not in it, I hear their gossip. Mabel tells me that they analyze 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 says that you're lucky. But, I feel 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 are 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 is nice to my Dad and he loves her, I think.

 

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

 

I escape inside my room, and write to you. You don't have to be here, and you are only near me through a picture, but even that picture makes me forget about my stresses that wavers in my mind. It might be because of those trancing eyes of yours, even if it wasn'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 know he's in love with me. He must be busy with Abby or with his parents but I don't mind, because we see each other during school and I'm busy with work after school. My biggest fear is Jack cheating on me, because I'm 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'm going to be so sad.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

I love moments of random visions of you, and I don't care what people say about me and my state of mind. Who are they to judge? I am sure they love someone, or maybe don't have the courage to stand up for themselves and become a totally random individual who just love!

 

I do worry about my own life too sometimes, because all I think about is you, and how much I love Saturday Night Live, but I am confident that Jack won't mind. I do watch other shows and I do love other celebrities, but your picture calms my soul, that's when I knew you are my favorite!

 

I love 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 don't know what happened to her now, she never writes us any letters and we don't know where she is. She disappeared.

 

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

 

Brenda doesn't drink, and she said she's been sober for twenty years. She looks like she's in her forties, so that's a very long time. Dad is only 47 years old, but he looks older. I hope Brenda will get him to exercise and they can start going out more and more.

 

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

 

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

 

If I never met Jack, my life would be empty. I won't have anyone to confide in, and I tell him everything but I don't tell him about you. You're my secret, and these letters are my secrets. These letters are my true feelings, desires, my relief and my comfort. I write 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 are definitely supposed to meet, because I've had the same recurring dream for a while now, and it's starting to affect my sleep.  I think it's either because I miss you or I keep watching the webcast once too many times during the week.  

I think the real reason is because the good spirits from above are 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 got 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 repeats 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 heor, 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 have to make sure you will 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 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 will 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 see 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 wonder if we would ever meet, and if you would ever notice me.  

 

I trust and believe, that some forces beyond my control is holding me gently, and loving me. Heaven knows, how much love I have in my heart for you, and love will never go unnoticed.  I write these love letters out of respect of that love, and I know you would respect me, for loving you in the most peculiar way.  

 

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

 

I hope one day we can go to Gray's Papaya, and order their papaya juice in the largest yellow plastic cup in the world, and walk in the city while holding hands.  
 
That was a great dream, and I'm sticking 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 has 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'm 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 Annette 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's 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're 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."

 

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 is over, Sethy. Don'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 appear 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'm throwing a protest.

 

I'm hating it,

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 since I was with 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 was 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 brag 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.

 

 

 

February 18, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

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

Sethy, I am a bit of both. I am sure you don't really care when it comes to fan-ship. I think you love us all the same, and reserve the most unconditional love for your Jersey babies. But, some people are too scary to even speak about. Like Jack, and our relationship for instance.

 

I wish I never met Jack under the circumstances of high school and teen angst, but a perfect environment is somewhat an illusion nowadays for everyone at any age. I don't know if anything will change for the better, because he says to his friends that I slept with him behind the bleachers three days ago. But, I never did that. I swear to God! I'm a virgin! I think Jack is testing me, and I'm 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 can prove my love to him. He said that he wasn't sure if I love him, unless I sleep with him.

 

What do you think, Sethy? I wish you are here. Dad is still at work, and it's 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 am at school, then later after school I work at T-Bell till about this time, so I don't see him at all. I wish Dad can tell me what he thinks.

 

It doesn't matter, because in a day, you will be on SNL, and I will just watch your Weekend Update and feel the vibes through the television, and get my answers that way. I swear, 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 LOVE 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 is playing tricks with Jack and me, but the truth is. Jack and I want to do it, all the time, and it's been hard for me to resist. I let him put his hands on my chest and I love kissing him with his hand down my pants. I'm not sure if I am suppose to do it at this age, but I like Jack a lot, although he's an asshole sometimes. But, he's the only guy who's interested in me because I'm poor and Jack said I look "homely."

 

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

 

"I'm a genius, trust me," William says all the time. But, I don't have proof that he is or not. How am I suppose to know he is a genius and if he's a good guy if he doesn't want Jack and I to get together and have the best time of our lives?

 

I don't know, Sethy. I just know, that every time I see you on Saturday Night Live, I just adore you, and you are my dream man. I'm too young for you, because you're in your late thirties, and I am in my late teens, but who cares about age, right?

 

Am I suppose to compare you to Jack or to anyone or anything? I don't think so!

 

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

 

The best thing about me is, I am sweet, from head to toe, and I don't care if people tell me I'm too crazy about Jack. Jack already knows that, and I just know that we are meant to be together and it's time. I think that's how candies of love are made, and how good hearts are born with.

 

So, please think of me in good thoughts and pray Jack will not treat me as hard candy, so I can stop feeling the imperfections of life from now on. Jack is from a middle class family and I am low-income, so 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'm so happy that you don't care if I write to you at all. I guess this letter is going to be all about my anger for people who tells me not to succeed. Dad tells me to lay low and stop working at T-Bell and concentrate at school. He doesn't understand that it's my only way to get money to go out with Jack. It's the only place where I feel excited and happy.

 

Between tortillas and the heating block, I put my stresses about Dad on the hot plate. The fresh pico de gallo and salsa verde gives me a spicier taste buds and knack for life. I ask Dad all the time, if I can have some time with him, and he says he has to work. So this job, sort of replaces my time with him and the sadness from it. It helps me, and it heals me. I don't want to lose my job.

 

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

 

I am really angry, just don't get upset at me, Sethy, since I'm just releasing my pain and stresses out on these letters. You should be proud of me, because I'm 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 are not alone.

 

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

 

He says, "You should sympathize with me, and feel how much I want to be more successful and happier in life." He's super stupid! He tells me this when I am the one who is taking care of the house chores, and taking care of myself. He pays the rent and electricity, but I pay for the groceries, and I never ask for my money back.

 

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

 

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

 

This is why I don't care about people in general, and this is why I don't care for friends. I only have Jack and I want to prove my love to him, because I doubt that Dad loves me at all.

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

 

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

 
I am sorry that I am just confessing my hate to you. Thanks for just being there Seth, you don't have to do anything at all, and it's really a simple help you gave me. You're so sweet, and I'm enjoying our imaginary friendship! LOVING IT!

 

I'm stronger without him,

WishesOoohWishes

 

 

 

February 27, 2010

 

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

 

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

 

I just spent the whole week with him at his family's cabin in Breckenridge, Colorado. His father, who is 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 mean is, I didn't say no. I realize I am allowed to love Jack, even if I'm a low-income teen with an alcoholic father. You know us girls, … we want to feel beautiful! This is why I am wishing, praying, dreaming, and planning for a good life, and most of all … working on it! I am proving my love to Jack. It is 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 am a part of their family.

 

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

 

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

 

I love being in love, and I want everyone to be on this adrenaline love, without the Diet Coke! I just want everybody to feel happy, and to respect one another, because there are just too many lives tattered, and dreams torn apart, and Mothers leave their children, leaving Fathers sleeping on couches. This is why I am working on being a part of Jack's family, because I want a good life. One day, I can have a strong family, good community, and powerful children out of my womb, like Jack's Mom, Jennifer.

 

I'm going to start with me, because I love you, Sethy. This is REAL!

 

I'm 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 suck! Full of all sorts of errors, and funny words, and I wonder if you will ever read them.  I need to write to you about my life and how I feel, because this is the only way I can survive.

 

I have no one to call family, Sethy. It's not funny. I talk to a counselor and the state pays her, otherwise, I have no friends at all. I don't want to talk to anyone at school about my life, except for Mabel, because she asks me. Fine, maybe she's a friend, but I'm still not sure.  

 

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

 

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

 

I'm praying that we will meet, as soon as possible, before you transfer to another job! I wish you tape your shows nearby my house!  Then, we can have bagels and lox each week, and maybe we could have Vietnamese Pho Noodles for dinner.  I have no idea how these ideas come to my mind. I promise I'm not ill, but I am sad that some things in my life. My job, for instance, I almost got fired this evening because I kept asking for help on the burrito line and no one wants 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 is never perfect and I only have 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'm only 16. If you can only see my heart, you will fall in love with me. 

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

 

I just pray you will give me that fair chance when you see me, or maybe you will want to sweep me off my feet today. I just want to love you, and I hope you are down to Earth. If you can only feel what I feel, you may even cry about it.  For a girl like me, to fall in love and reach out to her dream celebrity hottie, it's a miracle.  

 

I love Saturday Night Live, and I am just captivated by you! Please don't think I'm desperate or lonely, even though I am. I just know you make me happy.  

 

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

I am not always perfect, but my feelings for you are all perfectly beautiful. 
 
Somehow, a pretty fairy, 
WishesOoohWishes

 

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

 

 

February 29, 2010

 

To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,

 

I want 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'm scared. I don't know why.

 

Dad doesn't know. Please don't tell him, in case you have telepathy. I heard every anchor on Weekend Update has some kind of gift, that they have visions of people's lives because there is that world map behind them and it has some kind of powers. It is a curse but also a gift, but each anchor knows who their favorite fans are, and they can see the lives of their favorite fan through the camera.

 

I just always picture you, inside my mind, working my conscience and helping me. But, trust me, Sethy. Jack loves me, besides, no one loves me at all, so Jack's love is precious. I seriously don't think anyone will appreciate me, if Jack isn't my boyfriend and if we aren't having sex.

 

It feels like it's some kind of higher status, that we are 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 think it's time people accept it, but trust me, I won't EVER tell our parents about this. NEVER! They are the last people on Earth that should know about it, because I don't want to get in trouble.

 

I think everything is safe with you, Seth. I can tell you everything through my letters, and it's perfectly normal. Even my counselor advices me to keep writing, and she tells me that I'm smart. I think I am too.

 

In love with you, … and Jack, ?

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

My head submerged underwater and my lungs breathed out the condense air as tiny bubbles floated over my face. The evening news showed deaths of Asian women in Atlanta a few days ago, but I refused to listen to the thought and immersed myself in the bath water relaxing my mind. 

Two days ago, an active shooter murdered 10 innocent people at the King Soopers Grocery Store, in Boulder, Colorado, nearby a cafe I frequently spent time in to write. There was a clearing force injecting my heart, to clean nonsense and only give space to those who loved me and no one else.

 

The rest of the world no longer mattered, and I felt forced to shelter in the comfort of stable friendships, critical people only, because those were my community. I didn't want to speak or process my grief to anyone around me. I wanted to close the door to the friends I have yet to meet or develop relationships with, and focus only on the current and immediate close circle of families and friends.

 

Those violence almost closed the door to a future filled with harmony, new friendships with beautiful lives and souls, and almost impeded my growth as a human being.

 

My drive and purpose in life came knocking on the gates of my brain, and asked it to open and relent compassion for my well being; through trauma processing and making connections with my fellow coworkers and customers I met on a daily basis.

 

I realized, my purpose was to send out beautiful energy and to help others in words, action, and love, more than I received. It was my calling to fulfill as a fateful destiny, for which I never chose but it chose me and happened accordingly. 

After witnessing those tragedies via social media and television, I almost lost my sparks. It stunted my creativity for a couple of days, from fearful thoughts that I might pose as a threat for a senseless and irrational human being. People who committed mass shooting, racism, rapes, violence, terrorisms at all levels, including stalking and gang banging, have no purpose in life, their souls full of egos. They felt the existence of good prevents them from their freedom to release the erratic behavior to oppress those who pose as revolutionary. They felt threatened in their subconscious by good lives, opportunities, diversity, tolerance, harmony, and peace. The crazies almost had their statements fulfilled, but that would only suppress growth of our future and ridicule our youth. 

Came back my thoughts to the knocking of my own heart beats pumping my subconscious. It asked me to write out my thoughts and gave me a newfound freedom of expression. It was my right to be Asian because I was born with it, and my right to want gun safety, and my right to grieve for my beloved Father, who died a month ago.

 

I had the right to process it, to not fear it, to be angered by it, but not to be negatively moved or provoked by it. I was the strong tower who had the right to sunshine, and it was an ordained future. Those vile acts and the death shan't lead me to captivity. I was free to express my emotion, because it was sane and creative, not vehemence of ghore. 

Submerged underwater, my brain cooled down, the door to my mind and heart opened for a life of adventurous journey, running with beating pulse pacing my life to enjoy it once again. The tiny bubbles kept floating over my face and I rose up exposing my shoulders over the bath water.

 

This was a thought processed, after a few dismal days.

 

Just write.

~This romance of oranges was written in Honor of Matt De La Pena and Caroline Sun, and my friends, Derek and Renata Garcia.~

 

Love came to me during a sunny day with nothing but the glory of the skies above. The skin on my body was rippled with sweat as the water from the grove sprinklers sprayed over us, rooting the soils and splattered on my skin. Atop the second lowest branch, where I lived, the Earth was at peace and the wind breezed through the leaves with a soft gentleness upon my whole body, round, supple and naturally orange. 

 

My name was Pomelo, but others called me Junior, because I was a medium sized gent with a penchant for water drops. At times I screamed to the top most branch where Old Pomelo was and he always said, "Son, there will come a time when your worth will enhance human kind. Think of all the many oranges in the world and the vitamins we preserve. We are giants of lineages of fruits!" I believed him, no matter how low I was to the ground and how much rotting days approached. I was sure I would one day be picked for something great.

 

My buds came early last Winter, and the grovesman planted a special fertilizer upon Mother to feed her nutrients. She sighed of relief as her branches drooped and she breathed out "growth" from the eye of her bark and kissed each Pomelo with a drop of liquid love. Pomelos lived hundreds of years and at times, thousands, depending on the grovesman and purveyor. We were their birthed inheritance, and treasured investments, so we all trusted on their kindness for foods, lodging, births of new buds and fertlization.

 But,...all dreams of family and love plucked out of me when a grovesman came and poked me. He took his syringe, as large as 50 mililiters, and sucked out the spirit and vitamins into his tubes. The orange fluid flowed into the plastic bottle, and I wiggled out of fear. "Please pluck me and have me with a decadent joy. Instead of taking my life this way. Please, spare me the suffering and bitterness of a rotting body over Summer and Fall. Please...," I pleaded and pleaded. He was ignorant and kept depleting my vitamins and body fluids. I wanted him to peel me off, and I felt I was sacrificed as a useless scrab. Uneaten waste was my destiny. He left with those plastic tubes of my juices as I wept. 

 

"Don't worry, my dear," I heard a voice. Her soft motherly voice came to my leaves and I heard her next to me. It must be the next tree nearby. I looked up, and I saw her, another orange, with a different life, different trait, different beauty. She was the most gorgeous species I've ever seen. Her skin brighter than my dark orange, with her peels matched the sunshine above us.

 

"I am Mandarin," she whispered, and giggled. She was smaller in size, but so beautiful, with perhaps a nectar sweeter than I could ever imagine. "We will meet again, but for now, let's dive deep our souls into our buds and branches for the sake of life. Our buds will regrow, and a new progeny will come," she explained.

 

"Mandarin, you've gotta tell me your nickname," I said. "Mine is Junior."

 

"Mei-Mei," she said. "I was planted when Mother was just a small three feet high."

 

"Your Mother was an immigrant? I was native here, but Mother has been here for decades." I told her.

 

"I know. We were planted here next door, for a new life," she said. "The Grovesman worked inside the plantation for a study. We are their main focus."

 

I, Junior, never understood "studies." I hoped it won't left my soul rotting away in the heat that my peels grew fungus.

 

"Stay quiet, they're back," said Mei-Mei.

 

Mandarins were beautiful, with a gentle tartness on the palate that was small and meshed with the taste buds as desserts for men and women. Their kind were loved by Mother's ancestors. We were long lived friends and the descendants of their friendships. My heart on the buds of the branches breathed in a subtle pink hue of romance and love. I was mezmerized by Mei-Mei. 

 

The grovesman came back, this time with more empty plastic tubes, yet, the searched for Mei-Mei, and palmed her in his hand. He kissed Mei-Mei, and inserted the syringe inside her body, and took a seed from her Mother, out of the top most branch, where another Mandarin had died out of the extreme heat in the Redlands Orange Groves.

 

Mei-Mei cried as her peels moistened, and I felt her spirit crept up the branch and stayed there. I did the same, leaving my body and peels at its place, as I crept up my branch to stay solemn upon the sympathy of the Mandarin carcass before me. 

 

We grieved together, and often, we came out to the tip of our branch and cried together. Remininiscing the long gone friends who were plucked as we stayed in spirit in our branches and Mother caressed our souls with songs and melodies harmonizing with the wind.

 

Mei-Mei and I, Junior, bonded over Summer and over the dead carcass of friends unplucked and over-ripened. We didn't get plucked instead our bodies were preserved inside a covered plastic, and it was kept there as Specimen A and Specimen B. 

 

Fall came and our souls sang together, in baby blue romance, bringing our hearts melodies of ripened red hues of love.

 

"We join us here, as souls to be. Our bodies lives on.....We gifted them with our harmony, and our hearts lives as one."

 

Mei-Mei and I sang all the time, and over Autumn, when our leaves fell as we grieved our barrenness and lifted our words of hope and faith to the Earth, for a harvest next season, in fortuitiy. 

 

A month before Winter, a grovesman came and dug a deep hole nearby, and Mei-Mei noticed a seed was planted before us. I, Junior, didn't want to witness another Mother came to the grove without a welcome, therefore, I summoned the dead leaves to cover her on the Earthen soil, protecting her soul.

 

"Another Mother tree, Junior," Mei-Mei screamed. "Another family."

 

"We must wait, and we must warn them of the grovesman and the impending deaths and plucking seasons," I told her.

 

Rain poured, and the muddy ground almost covered the new Mother. She must struggle through it, but came a leaf, sprouting up. Not all seasons were meant to break you, because some were meant to strengthen you and birth a new life.

 

The grovesman chaffed the planted Mother, and fertilized her, letting her grew speedily over the soil. A month flew by, and the new Mother, stood tall, about a foot, with growing tendrils of leaves teasing me of new souls inside her core.

 

"We will have an extension of us, Junior," said Mandarin Mei-Mei. "I overhead the grovesman, researching of its budding season, and sending more water to splash over it. We will have some, too."

 

"What breed?" I asked Mei-Mei.

 

Uncontained of my joy, I perched over the tip of Mother's branches, and saw the new Mother grew. Months flew by, and a tiny flower came bursting out into the nothingness of the grove, bombastically exploding with colors of white and tiny buds surrounding it. 

 

"Heeelllllooooooo SUNSHINE!" the little voice said. "Hello Mother, Hello Father!" The tiny flowers cracked the barriers of sounds between me, Junior, and my Mei-Mei, Mandarin romance. 

 

"Father?" I asked. "There was never one."

 

"Mother?" Mei-Mei asked. "I was just a few buds amongst the many."

 

"Oh, not so fast with those self-deprecating thoughts! My name is Clementine! I am YOUR SON!" the tiny voice called out loud. It was vivacious and with a strong personality, and outburst of optimism inside him. 

 

Mei-Mei and I, Junior, sighed and embraced the sound of the gentle wind as Spring kept on, and Clementine budded into small oranges, smaller than Mandarin, with peels as dark and smooth as me. 

 

A grovesman approached, and plucked me first, then Mei-Mei, and our souls crept into the branches, but our bodies were to be the delight of man. 

 

"Should I creep up to Mother," asked Clementine.

 

"My son, there are many things, we must say to you," I told him, as Fatherly as I could. "First, my name is Junior, and I am a Pomelo."

 

"My name is Mei-Mei, and I am a Mandarin," she said. "Echo. We must name him."

 

"Yes, I agree," I said. "Clementine is your family name, and your soul is ECHO!" 

 

"That means.....I AM ECHO and I am a CLEMENTINE! I AM THE BRIGHTNESS OF THE NEW DAY!" said my son, Echo, the Clementine.

 

Our family stayed at the Redlands Grove since then, and new souls came and by, but life kept on, as fruits blossomed, and seasons never faltered, but families stayed together.

 

The End. Just Write.