Dear Patrick
Letter Four
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Dear Patrick,
I'm sorry about my last letter. I'm sorry I was such a bitch in it. I'm just going to stop trying to bring you home. I'll keep you updated though. Your mom's in the hospital, she had a heart attack. If you want to sneak in and see her, I'll distract your dad for you- no questions asked. I won't ask to see you because you obviously don't want that. Just tell me what you need and I'll help you.
Patrick, I miss you so much. Honestly, I don't do much. I quit my job, my mom's dead. I really thought I'd be able to talk to my best friend about her death, since I always knew it would happen. But you're a little too busy, that's okay. You take all the time you need. She died two and a half weeks ago, doctors say the stress got to her. I tried to invite you to the funeral, but I couldn't really function right. I couldn't send you a letter- your sisters took care of everything for me. I didn't want to give them your address because I knew you wouldn't like that. See, I'm still here for you, Pat. But you're not here for me. I'll live, though. I don't know if you will or if you're even still alive, but Patrick, please.
The doctors diagnosed me with depression. They're so stupid though. Remember when you came out of ER and the doctor told you no hockey for a couple months. You ranted that whole night about how stupid and unqualified doctors are. You're right. They are stupid and unqualified. I'm not depressed, I just miss and need my best friend. Patrick, I don't want to do anything stupid. I don't want to hurt myself, but sometimes it sounds so good. Pat, I didn't forget all of those stupid plans we made. I didn't even get rid of that dumb plastic ring you proposed to me with when we were little. I didn't. I know I act like I do, like I don't care but I do and so much. So please, Patrick, if I mean or ever meant the smallest ounce of anything to you, just tell me you're okay. Then, tell me you never want to speak to me again or you don't want me to write you, but just tell me you're okay.
Love,
Lana
P.S. I wouldn't mind if you said more than just okay, though.
Dear Patrick,
I'm sorry about my last letter. I'm sorry I was such a bitch in it. I'm just going to stop trying to bring you home. I'll keep you updated though. Your mom's in the hospital, she had a heart attack. If you want to sneak in and see her, I'll distract your dad for you- no questions asked. I won't ask to see you because you obviously don't want that. Just tell me what you need and I'll help you.
Patrick, I miss you so much. Honestly, I don't do much. I quit my job, my mom's dead. I really thought I'd be able to talk to my best friend about her death, since I always knew it would happen. But you're a little too busy, that's okay. You take all the time you need. She died two and a half weeks ago, doctors say the stress got to her. I tried to invite you to the funeral, but I couldn't really function right. I couldn't send you a letter- your sisters took care of everything for me. I didn't want to give them your address because I knew you wouldn't like that. See, I'm still here for you, Pat. But you're not here for me. I'll live, though. I don't know if you will or if you're even still alive, but Patrick, please.
The doctors diagnosed me with depression. They're so stupid though. Remember when you came out of ER and the doctor told you no hockey for a couple months. You ranted that whole night about how stupid and unqualified doctors are. You're right. They are stupid and unqualified. I'm not depressed, I just miss and need my best friend. Patrick, I don't want to do anything stupid. I don't want to hurt myself, but sometimes it sounds so good. Pat, I didn't forget all of those stupid plans we made. I didn't even get rid of that dumb plastic ring you proposed to me with when we were little. I didn't. I know I act like I do, like I don't care but I do and so much. So please, Patrick, if I mean or ever meant the smallest ounce of anything to you, just tell me you're okay. Then, tell me you never want to speak to me again or you don't want me to write you, but just tell me you're okay.
Love,
Lana
P.S. I wouldn't mind if you said more than just okay, though.
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