To: A.Z.G. 

i went on this amazing date with a girl i met on hinge. i’m extremely attracted to her and she has a really good music taste that impressed me and started a lot of our conversation. however ! she wouldn’t stop talking about her ex, and asking me about my exes. she also slut shamed me constantly. maybe i like the shame ? am i into humiliation. the sound of her voice talking about her ex and telling me im a slut is so alluring. it feels like drinking poison but the poison tastes like a mcdonald’s soda. also i’m pretty sure she’s gonna leave to china for an abroad session soon. am i temporary ?

Elaina says:

Dear A.Z.G.,

I know you’re leaving soon. I just wanted to tell you I’m here until then, waiting for you. I’m not sure if what you want from me is something casual or not – I assume it is. All I’ve been doing is assuming. Just guessing, thinking, pacing miles in my room, and listening to the music you showed me. That’s all I can do since you haven’t said anything since our date. I really would like for you to text me, call me, see me again. I’d like to hear your voice, to hear whatever’s on your mind even if it’s about your ex. Actually, especially if it’s that.

Did you like telling me about them? Seeing how I reacted? How it made me talk about my exes, just so you could call me a slut? Did you like how red I got? How embarrassed and small I became? I liked it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be writing this letter: one long reaction to how you treated me. Maybe you’ll show this letter to your ex and you’ll laugh together. I’d like that – knowing that I’m enough to talk about. 

I’d like even more to be enough to be with, even if it’s just for a short while. However long you’re still here, that’s how long I’ll be waiting. Even if I’m temporary, a minute of time with you is better than nothing. To just listen to your voice, and to say whatever you’d want to hear from me. 

Yours,

when you want me

To: orange peel

i can’t tell if we should break up. we’ve been having a lot of disagreements lately and i just end up feeling hurt and sad. if you showed me you cared or did something to prove to me it’s worth it, then i think id feel better

Anna says:

Hi orange peel, 

It’s Valentine’s soon, and all I want is for you to show me that you love me. I know we’ve been arguing lately, but aren’t you supposed to fight for me? To show me you care? Is this worth it to you? Am I ?

I still remember how special you used to make me feel. All the little gifts, stopping by just because you missed me, sleepy giggles and forehead kisses — I guess that was all temporary for you. Just some ploy to make me believe you cared until you got comfortable. It’s like recruitment season in that stupid fucking fantasy league you always talk about, all sweet until you drop and trade me. Well, guess what? I’m tired of hearing how Luka got traded! I don’t care! If you could put half as much effort into us as you do twitter-defending him, maybe I would think you actually cared about me. Honestly, would you love me more if I was a 6’6 Slovenian oversized point guard who averages a triple-double?? You talk about it so much that I’m starting to get confused. 

I don’t know why we’ve been arguing so much lately, yet never really talking either. You would think the Valentine’s season would inspire some good and lovely feelings, but I guess not. Disagreement after disagreement, and you can’t seem to care enough to fix things. You never want to talk things out or console me, and every argument leaves me feeling as though I matter less and less to you. 

If you say you love me, prove it. I don’t know if we should stay together anymore. 

Show me you care, 

Yours for now

To: Jewel

I just want her to know how amazing she is and that she can do anything. She’s so capable and everyone can see it but she falls into pitfalls of self doubt so often and I don’t know how else I can make it more clear. You are so talented and smart, you can do anything. I love you.

Kiara says:

Dear Jewel,

Stars, birthday candles, wishbones, anytime I close my eyes, I’m wishing for you to see yourself the way I see you. I found what I was looking for when I found you, and I hope you find yourself just as beautiful and smart and talented and worthy and lovable as I did from the moment we first exchanged glances. I heard violins. I saw clouds part. I felt time stop. You happened. No one compares to you. No one.

I want your Monday mornings, late nights, beach days, New Year’s kisses, bad weeks, sweet nothings, but there’s really nothing in this world that I want more than to see you thrive. “I’ve heard the war was over if you really choose,” but I’ll always fight for you if that’s what you want too. I’ll find a place where we can put your baggage and your ghosts. I’ll drive you there. We’ll slow dance in hotel rooms, cry on each other’s shoulders, and sing in the rain along the way. When it’s all over, I’ll hold you while we watch the sun rise over the mountains as it melts all the icy snow and ushers in the spring. We’ll be alright. 

I love our inside jokes. I love your smile. I love your eyes. I love your laugh. I love your passion. I love your mind. I love you when you don’t love yourself. Even if you can’t see yourself the way I see you, I’ll stay and love you anyway.

Yours,

For Always

To: frank ocean

unfortunately, i was in a 7-month “situationship” without knowing it was (that word shouldnt even exist tbh). but anw he was the one who hit me up first and we clicked pretty well since we have similar interests and HE WAS so my type. but he said he just wanted to be friends after we talked abt we were going for the bg-gf train then we became “fwb” bc i still liked him then i kind of realized at the end after everything (shitty “first” date, bad sex) that he really just wanted to fuck but i was dickchanted. btw that was a year ago — i dont know if ive moved on or im just still mad? did i ask for too much or is he an idiot? was i not clear enough abt what i wanted or is he slow on the uptake?

Lily says:

Undearly Frank Ocean,

I still remember my heart racing when I saw an Instagram notification on my phone from you: heyyyyy :). I damn near threw up. Little did I know, those Ys represented something entirely different than enthusiasm. Why did you not love me back? Why was I not enough for you? Why would you string me along if you knew you didn’t want anything? Why are you afraid of committing? And Why are you so bad at sex? I mean, seriously, looking back I can’t believe your huffing and puffing in my ear, dripping forehead sweat onto my face, and utter lack of rhythm wasn’t the final straw. I think a pencil could satisfy me more than you ever did….but I digress. 

I cared for you. I gave you my all, and you crushed it like the condom you never wanted to use. When you asked to be fwb I agreed because I didn’t know what else to do. I needed you in my life and I needed to know you needed me too. But that was then and this is now. 

I’m indirectly writing this letter to you to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’ll never be able to find someone who loves you as much as I was willing to. You missed your shot. The train is gone from the station and my ticket is one way. I deserve better than shitty first dates and bad sex. 

See you never,

Your 7-month situationship

To: garfield

he eats so much fucking lasagna it’s actually so annoying. like when i walk into the house the fridge is completely empty and he refuses to help on mondays :(( what should i do

Sofie says:

Garfield,

What better time to air out the dirty laundry than Valentine’s Day? I have been trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but at this point, I have run out of patience. I am honestly dumbfounded by how a person could be so captivated by a single food. There are so many forms of pasta in the world! Limiting yourself to lasagna is not only sad but disgusting, especially when eaten in your chosen volumes. It seems like every goddamn meal ends up being the sheet form of pasta. How does one even consume that much? 

To add fuel to the fire, though there seems to be an endless supply of the lasagna you seem to worship, the fridge is consistently empty. I am left with nothing, and I am hungry. I am hungry for food, I am hungry for variety, I am hungry for even an ounce of effort. You have known for a while now that Mondays are our weekly reset day, and yet, I barely ever see you lift a finger. Instead, you lazily watch me haul out the overflowing trash, do your dirty dishes, fold all the laundry, and so much more just to make sure our house stays decently clean. I have an idea! Maybe start helping by at least scrubbing your lasagna pan to remove the embarrassing evidence of your addiction?? 

This letter is my last straw. Don’t break the camel’s back. I have no idea how else to clue you in, but just know Garfield, you’re toying with danger. Karma is ALSO a cat.

Sincerely,

Your resentful housemate

To: CM

Tell him how much he means to me! I love him endlessly. He’s my boyfriend, and our 3.5 year anniversary is the day after Valentine’s Day. He’s a jazz saxophone improv major if that helps you write. (Im female)

Jackie says:

Dear CM, 

We have a blood-orange colored love. I think of you and your music in all my in-betweens: the overhead in the elevator, the library bells at noon, my walk home on streets lined with golden trees. The space between us holds no dread or resentment, and there’s never any tricks to see me through. I think we are simple and I live for it. 

Three years is a long time to love somebody, but it’s so effortless that I freely count the half-anniversaries and the relevant, fake holidays (International Jazz Day is April 30, by the way). I’ve kept all the date-night souvenirs like money, even the entry ticket to the Charlie Parker tribute night that we pretended to like. You are pure and pour over me like summer water, and I never want to look for love in the next person.

Maybe our future will look like a fifth-floor apartment in a new city (Chicago, New York?). There will be a cat in place of a child, and we can pick out the ugliest wallpaper to adorn the kitchen and make us laugh. We’ll become regulars at the Chinese place down the block, get away with student discounts at the museums and even furniture shop. At the end of such perfect days, we’ll slow dance to Nat King Cole within the 400 square feet we can call our own (at least until the lease ends).

In plain words, I really love you. I know that my dreams are wishful and risky and bold, but if the music is right then so are we. 

Yours truly,

The Girl from Ipanema

To: A

I wish I could takesies-backsies “I’m looking for something casual”

Caroline says:

Dear A, 

Am I going to have to settle for a late night text on Valentine’s if you have nothing better to do? Or someone better to do? 

I panicked okay! The heart is a fickle thing, mine especially so. By the time the fast beating in my chest and flushed cheeks made sense to me, I had already voiced those five words. Would it be the worst thing in the world if I asked for a takesies-backsies? Schoolyard kids were onto something when they invented it, you know. Such a useful, innovative, quick-fix. What a better alternative than sitting down and explaining to you why I wish things were serious —how embarrassing. I’d rather sound like an eight year old regretting their flavor of Dum Dum on the playground than admit that I like you more than I thought I would. Would you prefer it if I didn’t? We never said that wasn’t allowed, right? 

It’s not enough anymore. I want to stay the night. I want to say “I love you.” I even want those awkward dinners with your parents. I want a serious, committed relationship. I’m seriously debating paying an Esty witch for a love spell to make you want me —or investing in those suspicious “love chocolates” I see advertised on TikTok shop. My roommates can’t take another day of Alexa blasting “Casual” by Chappell Roan. The situationship life is not for me. 

Sincerely, 

I take it back

To: James Harden

The guy I’ve been seeing for MONTHS pulled a “I’m not ready for a relationship bc of how my last one ended” on me.. HIS LAST ONE WAS OVER TWO YEARS AGO AAAAND HE PURSUED ME FIRST. Being around him just makes me sad now!

Chloe says:

denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance – stages of grief

Oh James Harden,

How are you? No really, how are you? Because you told me that you’re not ready for a relationship yet after the last one. Granted, it was two years ago. Granted, you pursued me first. But maybe, it’s the truth. But maybe, it’s not. Could you tell me what it is?

I’m angry because I deserve one and so I demand one. I demand an explanation. I demand the times that we had. I demand the ways in which you have liked me. I demand the truth.

What if I don’t treat you like the last person you’ve seen? How will you know if you never try? What is guarding your heart? What is blinding your vision? What if I beg you to stay? Would you? If you knew how I talk to my friends about you, how I think of you while daydreaming, and how I envision a relationship together, what would you do?

While you won’t, I’ll put my heart on the line. I admit it, being around you makes me feel sick to my stomach – asad person who knows what’s coming next but doesn’t have the heart to admit it. 

But I have a secret to say: I like you. Call me crazy that seeing you for months means that I might just like you, but I do. So do with that what you will. Let the past haunt you and stop you from ever getting into a relationship ever again. Let it consume your entire being and ruin every love of your life that comes to you, because you will never stop being an avoidant attachment. I deserve better.

This is for the best,

A heavy heart

To: Thing

1 morbillion curses if I ever have to see them again or 2.3 blessings if I never have to

Dana says:

Hello Thing,

It’s surreal to remember what you did. It’s bad enough that I hate seeing you more than I love not seeing you, but it’s worse that you’ve stayed on my mind this long. I read a post a while back talking about how “indifference is the opposite of love, not hate, because hating someone is giving them the same amount of emotional energy as loving them,” and that flipped my whole world upside down.

It can take years to let go of that sinking feeling you get when you remember someone who wronged you. The littlest things can jolt you years in the past and put you face to face with them: weird slang, old songs, small smiles. Distraction can only help you so much. How many movies, heart-to-heart conversations with friends, and albums can you drown yourself in until you kill the old memories and start anew?

Eventually, I’ll feel better. Time heals all wounds (according to corny philosophers,) so I guess you’ll just be a passing mention in the “Early life” section of my Wikipedia article. Someday I’ll be in a better place, maybe doodling some script ideas at a cute coffee shop, and I’ll overhear the person at the next table say your name. Maybe it’ll be for a potential baby name. Or a dog name. Whatever it is, I will probably think of you for a split second before moving on, finishing the rest of my masterpiece. May I one day live to see a day where that happens.

With indifference,

Morbius