When There Was Me and You

CHAPTER THREE |:| STOP SENDING ME LETTERS

C H A P T E R  T H R E E  |:|  S T O P  S E N D I N G  M E   L E T T ER S

a month after and a year before

February 14, 2013

One last push. Keep moving. Almost there.

"Massie!"

I pant, feeling the sweat all over my body. I take one last breath before standing properly.

"Yes. It's me, Mom. I just came back from a run." I step in the house and lock the front door behind me.

I tend to sit on the couch for a long time after a run, so instead I look straight ahead and walk towards the kitchen. 

"Massie, to be honest, I'm still not used to your morning jogging. It always freaks me out when I see your room empty." My mom sighs at the sight of me, then hugs me afterwards.

I roll my eyes, I've been hearing her say that for the past three years. "Mom. I like taking good care of my health, and you know how much I just love scaring you."

My mom slaps me lightly on my arm and I kiss her on the cheek before running towards my bedroom, but not before she reminds me that I got a letter.

I quickly change my sticky outfit into a comfortable one, and grab my diary.

February 14, 2013

Dear Diary,

I just finished jogging and came back after an hour. I think I just set a new record, so whoopdeedoo! Anyway, it's Valentine's Day, which still makes me cringe whenever I say that. One, because I personally believe that people create this kind of occasion for business purposes only. Secondly, I still get the same mysterious letter since 2009. Thirdly, I think I'm going to take a short nap; I feel like I finished a marathon.

Yours Truly,

Me.

I close my diary and put it in my drawer, where I usually keep it so my mom won't see it. I've been writing in this diary for a while now, ever since it happened. My doctors have been calling me every now and then to make sure I'm fine and still write in my notebook, which I always tell them that I still do.

I remove my slippers before I open my blanket, ready to sleep.

Even if my brain tells me to sleep, I can't help but stare at the ceiling. Because it looks very interesting. Just when you tell your brain to go to sleep, it suddenly bugs you. Like how it makes no sense why someone would waste their time to write me a letter.

Also, I have no idea if it is even meant for me. Putting myself out of misery, I get up and pick up the letter my mom left on the table.

I look at the envelope carefully to see if there's any return address, but alas, there's none.

To Massie Fox

I open it slowly, as if it's going to burn me. Because in reality, I find this very ridiculous.

The envelope is white, but the paper inside is a pink scented one. This is another ridiculous thing because I've hated pink ever since puberty, but then I'm pretty sure this letter is not meant for me. My mom insists that it is mine because my name is stated, also our address.

I showed her the letter once, but she just laughed at me and said that maybe I had a secret admirer. I replied to her that it might be a stalker and she should be scared for my life, but she just laughed at me again. I refuse to let her to laugh at me again, so I just take matters in my own hands and keep the letters. I'm pretty sure they'll make sense someday.