Dear Girl

“I can jump the fence! Look! Look!”

Once you see me soaring through the air like a gazelle, there’s no way you’ll be able to resist my awkward advances. Truth or Dare will quickly lead to crawling through windows late at night to poke each other in the genitals. “It looks like a sea anemone!” Soon we’ll be having sex, but we’re both too shy to buy condoms, so you’ll have to learn to take it from behind.

We’ll fall in love, and swear to be together forever and ever and ever, but will you really mean it? I’ll go away with my family for two weeks during the summer, and return only to find you pregnant with the unworthy spawn of that asshole who always bumps into me in the halls at school. Fuck him. Fuck you. I always knew you were a whore.

In reality, I’ll be crushed, but I’ll never give you the satisfaction of knowing it. I’ll drop out of school when the other kids start talking about how you dumped me. My folks won’t understand my pain, so I’ll spend more time with my new friends from the city, smoking cigarettes and giving police officers the finger. We’ll call ourselves The Biceps, and I’ll get a sweet tattoo of a chicken being choked to death between my muscles when I flex.

Eventually I’ll meet a new girl, but it won’t be the same. I’ll make her style her hair like yours, but she’ll never smell the way you did. She won’t really love me anyway, so when the money I make as a male prostitute dries up and I can’t afford enough heroin for the both of us, she’ll stab me in the spine and leave me paralyzed from the waist down.

Years later, without a friend in the world, I’ll wheel myself over the boardwalk and into the harbor. You’ll see it on the news, but you won’t remember me. The last bubble of air to escape my lips will contain your name, and it’ll just float to the surface and burst into nothing.