Vinyl Records:
Requiem
Hello, Sally.
This is something you should read. And you waited on this to be written, I hope. Now, don't turn away, and don't feel nervous. This isn't another of my letters. This is a note addressed to you - a former friend.
Recently, it has come to my attention that my letters were carelessly shown around. I wanted those to be seen by a little number of people. Two of my closest friends, who also happen to be two of your closest friends, told me how you've come a long way from the Sally you used to be. And that scares me. Deep inside, you're scared of me and I'm scared of you too. Much like the fourth grade when we hated each other's guts when we didn't even know the rest of our story.
I'm sorry if my letter caused you pain. I only wrote it to serve its purpose as a wake up call. To see and feel the life around you. The taste of freedom, of young age and the taste of people caring for you. There will be some people in your life who you won't be able to push away no matter how hard you try. I'm sorry I wasn't one of those people. I was weak, I was alone and I had no one to turn to but myself.
I know you still read the letter, but I do not want you to read it in your moments of weakness or depression. I want you to read it when things are going great, when you feel on top of the world and start to take people for granted.
I want you to read the letter and remember how it started.
If you are mad at me, you have the right to be. It's a free country and I'm not judging you anymore. I'll never understand it completely, but I will make my best attempt to do so. I loved you as a sister and no matter how hard I try to convince myself that you were a bad person, a bad mistake, there will always be a part of me that will care for you. No matter how many people you hurt and step on on your way to realization.
Ever since I've done the letter, I constantly find new things about how and who you were that summer that completely baffle me. I miss my Sally. I miss her a lot. Tell her that when you see her. Tell her she is greatly missed.
But I want to see the New Sally also. We both can't live our life in fear. So I propose a thing:
Let's meet. For the last time, each of us not scared, not guarded, just two small kids - two 11-year old girls. The ones that loved Barbie and fought constantly over who had the greatest items featuring Barbie. I propose a small - but meaningful meeting. I want to clarify and clear all those rumors, all those words said in vain or about me. I don't want to go into 2010 carrying around the burden that I am. And I suppose you don't want that either. This is a peaceful offering, I will not criticize you in any way - I swear. Please accept, Salls. Let's clear this. I don't want to remember us with a sore taste in my mouth.
But don't ignore this. It'll be eating at your brain. I'm tired of this silent war. I'm tired of feeling like a coward.
Thank you,
Abigail
This is something you should read. And you waited on this to be written, I hope. Now, don't turn away, and don't feel nervous. This isn't another of my letters. This is a note addressed to you - a former friend.
Recently, it has come to my attention that my letters were carelessly shown around. I wanted those to be seen by a little number of people. Two of my closest friends, who also happen to be two of your closest friends, told me how you've come a long way from the Sally you used to be. And that scares me. Deep inside, you're scared of me and I'm scared of you too. Much like the fourth grade when we hated each other's guts when we didn't even know the rest of our story.
I'm sorry if my letter caused you pain. I only wrote it to serve its purpose as a wake up call. To see and feel the life around you. The taste of freedom, of young age and the taste of people caring for you. There will be some people in your life who you won't be able to push away no matter how hard you try. I'm sorry I wasn't one of those people. I was weak, I was alone and I had no one to turn to but myself.
I know you still read the letter, but I do not want you to read it in your moments of weakness or depression. I want you to read it when things are going great, when you feel on top of the world and start to take people for granted.
I want you to read the letter and remember how it started.
If you are mad at me, you have the right to be. It's a free country and I'm not judging you anymore. I'll never understand it completely, but I will make my best attempt to do so. I loved you as a sister and no matter how hard I try to convince myself that you were a bad person, a bad mistake, there will always be a part of me that will care for you. No matter how many people you hurt and step on on your way to realization.
Ever since I've done the letter, I constantly find new things about how and who you were that summer that completely baffle me. I miss my Sally. I miss her a lot. Tell her that when you see her. Tell her she is greatly missed.
But I want to see the New Sally also. We both can't live our life in fear. So I propose a thing:
Let's meet. For the last time, each of us not scared, not guarded, just two small kids - two 11-year old girls. The ones that loved Barbie and fought constantly over who had the greatest items featuring Barbie. I propose a small - but meaningful meeting. I want to clarify and clear all those rumors, all those words said in vain or about me. I don't want to go into 2010 carrying around the burden that I am. And I suppose you don't want that either. This is a peaceful offering, I will not criticize you in any way - I swear. Please accept, Salls. Let's clear this. I don't want to remember us with a sore taste in my mouth.
But don't ignore this. It'll be eating at your brain. I'm tired of this silent war. I'm tired of feeling like a coward.
Thank you,
Abigail