don’t see that in a lot of peoples’ eyes. When I look at them, I don’t see anything. But you and I, we have the same light in our eyes.
I haven’t told anyone about you, about this. I know people would think it was weird, like it was an obsession or something creepy like that. It’s not, really. There’s just something about you that makes me happy, something that makes me feel normal. And that’s enough for me. And writing these letters to you, it’s a chance for me to get all my feelings, about you, about me, about everything, on paper and out of my head where they just make me depressed. I hope my life will get better, I really do. But it’s never felt that way. Some people just have it easy-I know I’ll have to work for whatever comes my way.
But you’ll be there for me—in spirit, of course. I can always think of you when times get tough, when I get feeling down. And if that’s all you ever give me, maybe that’s enough. It’s more than I’ve ever been given by anyone else.
I want you to know I’m happy for you. Even if I don’t like the guy, even if I am jealous, I’m happy that you look so happy.
Until next time, I guess. Two twenty-three. Here we go again.
Oh, and don’t worry about that Y2K stuff. It’s all bullshit. Take it from a computer geek.
JUNE 21, 2001
Dear Lena,
I can’t believe how much has changed in two years. Things have gone really well for me but it’s made things worse. That game I was telling you about? Well, I put it on the internet and everyone loves it. And now, I’ve got more money than I ever thought possible, all by selling add-ons to go with a free game. It’s amazing, I’m twenty-two and a multi-millionaire. You’d think life would be great.
But my dad seems angry about it. I think he decided a long time ago I would never be successful, especially not the way he wanted me to be. I wasn’t athletic, I wasn’t strong enough to work construction, and I didn’t understand his job. I tried it one summer and couldn’t do anything. I can’t swing a hammer, paint, hang drywall, do anything right.
Just computers.
He hasn’t seemed happy for me, I think he’s jealous. He’s always hated me for the way I am and he kept trying to change me, to get me off of the computer and out to the soccer field or something. And now I’ve made a fortune off of that thing he hates so much. More than he’ll ever make even with his company-and it brings in a lot of money.
I bought my own house a while ago and dropped out of school. Not dropped out, left I guess. Retired? It’s not like I’ll need it anymore. The house is a big place in downtown Toronto. I invited my parents to come for dinner one night, I had to order in—I can’t cook very well either. My dad had too much to drink and wouldn’t speak to me, he just kept saying things under his breath, calling me ‘fat’ and a ‘geek’. I don’t know what came over me, but I yelled at him. I swore. I told him to stop.
He hit me again.
Hard this time, right in the cheek. My mom was crying, trying to get him to stop but he came at me again. I hit him. I’ve never hit anyone in my life and I didn’t even know I could. But I did. There’s no way I hurt him. Not physically anyway. But he held his mouth and there was so much pain in his eyes. I wanted to die right there.
He didn’t say anything, he just grabbed his things, took my mother by the wrist and they left. I haven’t talked to him since, but mom still calls me almost every day. I don’t know where I’d be without her. She’s so proud of me, of everything I’ve done.
That’s why she’s here right now and he’s not. I don’t want to know how many fights they had about it, but she told me she was coming even if she had to divorce him to do it.
That’s enough about me, I don’t want to get tears on your letter. How are things with you? Your boyfriend isn’t here, could he not come or did things not work out? I hope everything’s
I haven’t told anyone about you, about this. I know people would think it was weird, like it was an obsession or something creepy like that. It’s not, really. There’s just something about you that makes me happy, something that makes me feel normal. And that’s enough for me. And writing these letters to you, it’s a chance for me to get all my feelings, about you, about me, about everything, on paper and out of my head where they just make me depressed. I hope my life will get better, I really do. But it’s never felt that way. Some people just have it easy-I know I’ll have to work for whatever comes my way.
But you’ll be there for me—in spirit, of course. I can always think of you when times get tough, when I get feeling down. And if that’s all you ever give me, maybe that’s enough. It’s more than I’ve ever been given by anyone else.
I want you to know I’m happy for you. Even if I don’t like the guy, even if I am jealous, I’m happy that you look so happy.
Until next time, I guess. Two twenty-three. Here we go again.
Oh, and don’t worry about that Y2K stuff. It’s all bullshit. Take it from a computer geek.
JUNE 21, 2001
Dear Lena,
I can’t believe how much has changed in two years. Things have gone really well for me but it’s made things worse. That game I was telling you about? Well, I put it on the internet and everyone loves it. And now, I’ve got more money than I ever thought possible, all by selling add-ons to go with a free game. It’s amazing, I’m twenty-two and a multi-millionaire. You’d think life would be great.
But my dad seems angry about it. I think he decided a long time ago I would never be successful, especially not the way he wanted me to be. I wasn’t athletic, I wasn’t strong enough to work construction, and I didn’t understand his job. I tried it one summer and couldn’t do anything. I can’t swing a hammer, paint, hang drywall, do anything right.
Just computers.
He hasn’t seemed happy for me, I think he’s jealous. He’s always hated me for the way I am and he kept trying to change me, to get me off of the computer and out to the soccer field or something. And now I’ve made a fortune off of that thing he hates so much. More than he’ll ever make even with his company-and it brings in a lot of money.
I bought my own house a while ago and dropped out of school. Not dropped out, left I guess. Retired? It’s not like I’ll need it anymore. The house is a big place in downtown Toronto. I invited my parents to come for dinner one night, I had to order in—I can’t cook very well either. My dad had too much to drink and wouldn’t speak to me, he just kept saying things under his breath, calling me ‘fat’ and a ‘geek’. I don’t know what came over me, but I yelled at him. I swore. I told him to stop.
He hit me again.
Hard this time, right in the cheek. My mom was crying, trying to get him to stop but he came at me again. I hit him. I’ve never hit anyone in my life and I didn’t even know I could. But I did. There’s no way I hurt him. Not physically anyway. But he held his mouth and there was so much pain in his eyes. I wanted to die right there.
He didn’t say anything, he just grabbed his things, took my mother by the wrist and they left. I haven’t talked to him since, but mom still calls me almost every day. I don’t know where I’d be without her. She’s so proud of me, of everything I’ve done.
That’s why she’s here right now and he’s not. I don’t want to know how many fights they had about it, but she told me she was coming even if she had to divorce him to do it.
That’s enough about me, I don’t want to get tears on your letter. How are things with you? Your boyfriend isn’t here, could he not come or did things not work out? I hope everything’s
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