Dear Alice,
I must begin by saying; those were some of the best words I have ever seen! I know we are blood sisters because I could feel your mind at work in your writing. Dear sister, you are cleverer than you know, or give yourself credit for. To be lovely with you would be a dream.
Now for my life this week… I attended chapel and I don’t know what I’d do if they made us go every weekend. I tried to sit in the way back, but this relentless girl who has a knack for scoping me out dragged me to the front pew. I don’t understand why she has to be the one person who seems to like me on this godforsaken campus. Out of the 2,000 students here she’s the only one that sews a seed of uncertainty in my theory that I’m translucent to all 1,999 of my peers. Do you remember Sandy from the fourth grade who never stopped talking, but other than that she was a perfectly fine friend? This girl would remind me of good old Sandy if it wasn’t for the incessant stalking. Sandy would talk you to your grave, but she wasn’t a creep.
Anyway, I received your letter (finally). There was a small fire in the mail room so they didn’t know whose mail had gone up in smoke and whose had only been lightly charred, or spared altogether. It’s quite the miracle yours survived——the mailbox next to mine was half engulfed. I guess they’re only getting half the story this week. I know that’s a cruel thing to say, but I think it’s cleverness outshines its cruelty. Plus any clever jest worth its oats tends to be funny. In any case the boy whose mailbox that was is juvenile and unfeeling—so maybe the incident stung his nerves into a less Neanderthalic consciousness. But I truly hope it did more than sting. I hope it smoked off all his indifference and left behind an unquenchable feeling of sonder. His current solipsism is detestable!
You’d agree with me Alice if you were here, and could see him in action. I don’t think there’s an ounce of humanity within him. If ever there was: it’s been swallowed up by the mean toad that’s walking by me right now! Alice, he’s like a witch who knew I was writing about him so he’s torturing me with his presence. God he’s just awful. He’s one of those horrible people whose nice to look at, but you can only enjoy them for so long until your mind reminds your eyes of all the horrid things they’ve said and done. He’s the worst I’ve ever seen. As solipsistic as he is he’s double that in looks. It makes me sick Alice. He makes me sick. Certainly not a lovely. What’s worse, he’s clever too! And you know that burns me extra because I’ve never been nice to look at, so cleverness is all I poses as any sort of charm (if it can be considered a charm at all). I know I’m not grotesque or anything of the sort, but I’m no pleasing thing like you, Alice. I think you robbed our gene pool——leaving me high and dry and painfully average looking.
I don’t mean to wallow out loud, a boy like this one brings out the worst in me. It can tamper a soul down to never feel the eyes of a stranger sneak a look at you cause you’re undeniably irresistible to the gaze. That feeling must be so normal to you. So expected. What’s that like Alice? What do you feel when a boy in town, or a man, sneaks a peak at your hair, or your eyes, or the way you glide across the street? It seems like a nice feeling in contrast with the incurable translucence I’ve been infected with since birth. Help me see the world through your eyes; at least a little glimpse.
Give my best to the family.
Your loving sister,
Georgie
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