Hey, Fischer.

I'm not even sure why I'm writing this. I know you won't see it. Just like you haven't seen any of them. But my therapist says better out than in, so I guess I'll keep writing them.

Your birthday was yesterday. I had school and then detention so I didn't even get to celebrate it. You would've laughed so hard if you'd been there. And you would've stood with me. And then you'd sit with me in detention and make corny jokes under your breath and we'd giggle behind our hands until our lungs hurt. I kept looking up and expecting to see you. Even though I knew you wouldn't be.

Stupid, huh?

Well, at this rate I'm gonna fail the year and I'll be stuck in this shitty town that much longer. Abrams keeps telling me I'll wind up in a trailer park if I don't start applying myself. And all I hear is the stuff you would've said about that after class. Walking home from school. I really miss that.

My mom's worried and my dad keeps trying to find new ways to lure me out of my room. I hate that but I don't know how to make it better. Sometimes even breathing is hard and all I can think then is how quickly you'd understand how I feel right now. And that just makes it even worse.

I hope you wake up soon. I mean, wouldn't it be nice to go hang out at the beach? You said you wanted to draw the sunset. I know the best spot to see it, so--

Just wake up soon. Please.

Love,

Theodore

P.S.: Cod really misses you

Hey, Fischer.

Here's another letter to add to the pile collecting dust on your desk. I'm still going to that stupid therapist. You would hate her too...always trying to drag out your feelings. What feelings bruh? You'd laugh but I'd say you'd be funny in therapy. You would talk so much lies and shit, she'd believe everything. You know I just sit there staring at the wall or the pot of pinks on her desk.

I didn't go to school today. I just couldn't. Not when every time I look up, expecting you to walk in, and you ain't there. I won't go tomorrow either. Abrams will be down my neck, again. I'm sick of walking home alone. Just me along the sidewalk, hearing the laughter of the others and their friends.

My mom and dad are fighting again, about me staying in my room. I just wish they'd leave me alone. But they don't understand how empty the table is without you. Stupid how I miss your loser jokes at dinner? Huh? Mom's always in the bathroom crying. Dad keeps leaving at night. Man, I'm sick of him trying to get me to talk to him.

Please, please, just wake up, before I fall asleep too.

Love,

Theodore.

Ps. Would you be mad if I went to the beach at sunset tomorrow?