Hold Me.

With mere moments left at Wesleyan, I feel it’s only right that I express all the feelings I have kept bottled up for so long. These are excerpts from letters that I wrote, but was always too scared to send. I hope you can accept the heartfelt words that are long overdue.

Dear Adam,

You are not funny. What people often mistake for humor is actually latent sexism and racism. You’re an asshole in the rectal sense of the word, for serious. I heard about that time at Beta when you stole all the roofies, then responded to ladies with the threat “don’t make me put you to sleep, girl!” I’m only telling you this because soon, I’ll never have to see Freelander again— I got nothin’ to lose, bitches!

Steve,

You are not the only person in the world to major in the College of Letters— I am not impressed. I was once in COL, and then I realized, it lacks one key thing— an extra “O.” It is not, my friends, the college of cool.

Nat Webb,

I’ve never actually spoken to you, but I assume you’re a cross between Dan Rather and Kiefer Sutherland in “The Lost Boys,” which is kinda hot.

Dear Katie B,

I have had a crush on you for like, twelve and a half months. Your bangs swooped into my heart and set up shop deep inside— baby girl, the rent’s past due. I don’t know if you know you’re gay or not, but Gelman told me you were, so I thought I’d take a chance.

P.S. I have borderline glaucoma, and in 16 days, will no longer have health insurance. Please, send me pictures so that I can memorize the curves of your face.

Gelman,

Yes, your ass does look fat in those jeans.