How are you? How’s school? I bet you’re kicking everyone’s ass with your brilliance and screwing up the curve. Don’t act like you’re not, I know you…
Me? I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of boredom. I’m tired of dust and dirt. I’m tired of shitty food. I’m tired of people being assholes to each other. I’m so fucking tired. And I miss you.
Last week was six years since my mom died. I wonder what she’d think of me. She hated violence and guns and war. Do you think she’d be disappointed? Are you? Mom always talked about me becoming a doctor. Ha! Like that would ever happen. But this is so far from what she wanted for me. I wish I could talk to her again, even for just a few minutes. I miss her.
I miss you. Did I tell you that already? I miss talking to you every day. I miss your laugh. I miss your eyes. You have the most unbelievable eyes. When I look into them, I’m home. Does that sound sappy? Don’t try to make me feel better, I know I sound like a pussy. It’s just… I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I can’t sleep until I look at your picture, and then I can’t sleep because I dream of you.
It’s always the same. We’re sitting on a red and white checked blanket with a huge picnic basket, like something Martha Stewart would use, with a ton of food (All those years of watching Martha with you have seeped into my subconscious – lol). We’re in an awesome park. The grass is greener than anything I’ve ever seen, and the sky is the bluest blue. There’s this amazing chocolate cake (probably made by Martha) which of course you won’t share. I start tickling you at that spot above your ribs, because I want some cake, damnit! You’re laughing and it’s the best damn thing I’ve ever heard. Then I’m over you, and your looking at me like… I don’t know… Like we’re not just friends. And right when my lips are centimeters from yours, so close I can almost feel them, taste them… There’s a huge explosion and I wake up. Weird, huh?
But then I was thinking…and it didn’t seem so weird. What do you think? It’s not like we haven’t kissed before…
Wait, forget it. I’m not making sense. Told you I’m tired. I think I’ll go take a nap while I can. Maybe see if anyone has any cookies or chocolate.
Your tired, idiot friend,
Here’s the letter Thad did send…
How’s school? I bet you’re kicking everyone’s ass with your brilliance and screwing up the curve. Don’t act like you’re not, I know you…
Things are good here but I’m tired of the shitty food. What I wouldn’t give for a good burger and fries. And cake. Chocolate cake. I had a dream we were on a picnic and had this big-ass chocolate cake, but you refused to share any with me. Of course, I tickled you until you couldn’t breathe, but I woke up before I got any cake.
Maybe you and Leon can make me some more chocolate chip cookies? They go fast. It’s like all these assholes have some kind of cookie radar. As soon as one of your packages comes, I suddenly have a gaggle of new best friends. So, if your bored (because I know you’re not busy with law school and all) and you need something to do, think of me in my cookie-less state and take pity. I have no shame; I’ll take pity cookies. (Lol)
I’ve been thinking about my mom a lot lately. Can you believe it’s been six years already? I still miss her and wonder if she’d be proud. Don’t roll your eyes. Yes, I know your rolling them, telling me I’m an idiot because you know she’d be proud. But still… It’d be nice to know for sure, to talk to her again.
Xan and I have been talking, and neither one of us plans on re-enlisting again. That means I have a little less than three years to figure out what I’m going to do when I get out. I could use some of that clever brain of yours to help me (I swear to God, you’re the smartest person I know). All ideas welcomed. But tell Leon I’m still a “no” on the underwear model thing (haha).
I’m beat—dreaming about cake can wear a guy out—so, I’m going to nap and hope no one bothers me. Go kick some law school ass. I miss you, Jules!
P.S. Here’s a picture of Xan and me with the calf we helped deliver. Xan did the grunt work, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.
P.P.S. Will you send more pictures of you? And cookies, send cookies!