Sincerely Luna Rose

November 21st, 2014

Dear Nobody

I'm getting kind of worried about that letter that was sent last week. My mom said that she sent it out with a return address, but it hasn't been returned yet. I've checked the mailbox every single day and nothing has showed up, which could mean a few things.

1. My mother didn't actually put it in our mailbox. She either purposefully kept the letter to invade my privacy or she accidentally doesn't know what our mailbox is. Maybe she thought that she put it in the mailbox but then actually forgot to.

2. She doesn't know our address and wrote down the address wrong on the envelope. (Best case scenario)

3. 123 Angel Lane is a real place. (Worst case scenario)

If the third possibility is in fact what has happened, then somebody who lives at this address is probably reading this letter. Let me start by saying that I'm 95% positive that this address doesn't exist and that means that you actually don't exist. You are nobody. My whole method, my sanity is based on the fact that these letters are to nobody at all. I really didn't actually make up this address either, so there's that.

My father was a failed artist. A singer. A songwriter. A failure. He left my mom after her drug abuse got too out of control and to also follow his dreams but he did love his kids, me and Nathan. Not enough to take us with him, apparently, because he still left us with a mother who was addicted to drugs, but it is said that he loved us at one point. I remember loving him too, when he would take us to the planetarium to look at the stars (he was really into space) and we went four leaf clover hunting in the field behind our old house.

Anyway, my mom had this old CD with a bunch of my dad's songs on it- the album that never was. I'd found it a few years ago when I was looking through her stuff for some weed and I came across it.

I listened to the whole makeshift album at least ten times when I first found it. It felt like a saving grace to me, because I never really knew my father. He left when I was seven and so I don't remember him very much and my mom never talks about him. It puts her in her angry mood, so I never even try to ask.

So when the library started giving out free stamps and I decided to start writing letters to nobody (a completely different story that I might tell at some later date), I went to this album for inspiration.

Set me free,
From this misery.
123 Angel Lane,
That's where I'll be.

Those were the lyrics of the song. I'd Googled the address at the library too, just to make sure that it doesn't exist. So I know that it's not a real address, which I guess means that there's only the first too possibilities of what happened to the letter. I've chosen that after today, I will stop worrying about it, because it's out of my hands anyway.

Okay, so I have so much more to rant about in this letter: David, Grey, Jules and Riley, Nathan. All of the usual suspects. I can't right now though because I'm meeting the crew (can't believe I just said that) soon and I've got to go.

Included Picture: Found this flower on my way home-maybe good luck?

Sincerely,
Luna Rose

I quickly go through the letter procedure: stamp it, give it the right address, and then walk it downstairs and tuck it into the right mailbox on my way out of the apartment to meet my friends at the Ronlux building.

Once I get down to the basement, everybody is there. I had to work earlier in the day right after school so I had to meet up with them late after I got home from work and wrote my therapeutic letter. Cece, like always, is sitting by the wall with her sketchbook on her lap and her wrist flicking about with her pencil. Faith and Grey are having an arm wrestling contest on a big wooden crate because we don't really have tables down here while Jules is cheering on Faith and Tasha is rooting for Grey.