Letter Eight

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Dear Phoebe,

I didn't handle it well when you told me about your growing feelings.
I should've tried better.
I should've tried harder
to see things from your side.
But all I saw was you, Bee.
My sister, Bee, telling me that
things were going to change.
Telling me that things would
never be the same.

At the end of eighth grade, I broke your heart Bee.
I rejected your heart, Bee.
And in return, you called me a freak.

A freak for liking the second kiss.
A freak for wanting to
curtsy and not bow.
A freak for loving Babydoll
and not Champ.

I rejected your heart, Bee,
because I knew I could never
return your feelings.
You broke my heart because I
hurt yours first.

I said sorry and you said it too. Secretly we both knew, it was the end of me and you.

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