Dear Charlie,

 

note: you can read my earlier post/review of the book before you proceed for more context.                                                           

Dear Charlie,

    Hi. I don't really know how to properly start letters but I guess that's a normal one. I hope you wouldn't mind. I'm not exactly one to come up with something fancy, I'm just average, or at least that's what I tend to believe. I don't really know what others think about me. I want to ask but I'm not that good at asking questions aside from the ones I ask myself.

    I had read your letters. I'm glad you sent them to me. But I'm even more glad that I decided to read them. I hope I read them sooner. I hope I read your stories a little sooner, Maybe it would've helped me. But I know this isn't exactly about me. It's about you and your honest stories. I would like to talk about those first before I talk about myself. I would like to talk about them because they are far too interesting to be left out. 

Just like you liked telling stories about what others have told you, I think your own stories deserved to be passed along to others as well. Your own stories and the stories of your brother, your sister, and your whole family, Patrick, Sam, and all the other friends you made through them; all of that deserves to be heard and read by other people.

And if I would start this letter all over again, I'd say:

Hi Charlie. My name is Blue. I'm not sure how you've heard about me, but I'm glad you did.

Hi Charlie. It's me. Your friend. There are a lot us. I am one of them. We have read your letters. I had read them. And I want to talk about them.

Most of them have been muddled and squeezed in my head like this solid ball of words that represent you. A ball I would like to call Charlie, specifically named after you. I remember bits of them. Some are my favorites... Others not so much. To be honest, I hated how those things happened. But things happen. We can't change them. I still hate them tho.

It was funny how you got high for the first time at the party. It was funny until it was sad. 

It was cute when you talked about how you loved Sam. It was cute until it was Sad.

It was also cute when you let Patrick kiss you. It was until it was sad. 

It was heartfelt when you talked about your Aunt Helen or visit her in the cemetery. It was beautiful until it was sad. Until it was ugly and messed up and sad.

I realized that a lot of your letters were sad, even if you don't them. I realized how you cried a lot, and even though you don't know why, I say please just cry. I know and I can feel it. Charlie, you're lonely and sad. Sometimes you know it. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes you think it's just normal. But no Charlie, it's not.

Some things aren't meant to happen, but they do. And yes Charlie, that's sad. And no Charlie, that's not what you deserve at all. You are not to blame.

You are far too sweet to get hurt. You are far too selfless to take advantage of. You are far too pure to soil. You are far more special to just be seen as the weird kid, the teacher's pet, or the odd one out in a group.

Bill was right. You are special.

You deserve the love that you had with your family. You deserve the acceptance you have from your friends. You deserve all of that and more.

I'm glad you're doing alright. I hope I could tell you the same about me, but I'm not sure.

I think it would be too selfish of me to write down all my wishes, but since I won't be able to honestly tell you my own stories (I'm sorry about that), I'll just let you know what I would have wanted.

I wish I had older brothers or sisters. I wish they could tell me what to expect about my love life, high school, and college. I wish they could be there when I have it rough. I wish they could drive me places and I wish I could drive myself to places.

I wish I shared secrets with at least one of my parents. I wish to have that secret that would mean something between us, a treasure that only we share.

I wish I had someone like Sam and Patrick. Someone who wouldn't laugh if I tell them something awkward and personal. Someone who's there. Who tells the right jokes in the heaviest moments even when nobody can.

I wish I had someone like Bill. A teacher would make me read books they've suggested and would ask me about my opinion on each of them. I would have a lot of things to say to them and questions to ask them as well.

I wish there was someone who called me special.

I hope all of us have someone who would tell us we're special.

Love,

Your friend

[did you read it as if you were Charlie? or as if you wrote this for Charlie? Let me know ^^]