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P. S. : Here’s a fake name so you don’t have to keep calling me “Grammar Police.” You’re welcome.
I could choke him.
If this “Zac” boy genuinely thinks I’m dim enough to spill my darkest secrets to a stranger, he’s in for a surprise. I make quick work of studying the library, zeroing in on the elderly couple scouring the psychology section, and debate on giving this troll any more of my time. Do I answer? Or trash the letter and end this once and for all?
Five minutes later, I settle on “Eh, what do I have to lose?”
He wants a confession?
A confession he’ll get.
Aveena
Dear Zac,
(What a basic name, by the way. You could’ve chosen any name. ANY name. *Shaking my head*)
Congrats, you caught me. I’m a girl. Too bad it’s the only thing you got right. I said I was a good person. I NEVER said I was “untainted” or “pure.”
In fact, not that it’s any of your business, but I stole twenty dollars from my parents to buy a Jonas Brothers’ album when I was eleven.
So technically, I’m a criminal.
Also, “technically”, your theory is trash.
Who says you can’t fuck up and still be a good person? Screw this “you’re only as good as the worst thing you’ve ever done” mentality. How about “you’re only as bad as your lack of remorse”?
It doesn’t end with someone fucking up. There’s so much more to life than that. It’s not all black and white. Sometimes it’s gray. Confusing, inconclusive gray. And at the end of the day, it all comes down to one question…
Do you regret it?
If the answer is yes, then there’s hope for you. It means you see the error of your ways and can do better. You can change.
People’s mistakes don’t define them, Zac.
It’s the decisions they make moving forward.
- L
P. S. : what’s the worst thing YOU’VE ever done?
P. S. 2 : Your theory is still trash.
* * *
Dear L,
THAT’S IT?
A TWENTY-BUCKS THEFT?
THAT’S the worst thing you’ve ever done? Jesus, I’m embarrassed for you. Oh, and nice speech you delivered there. Five stars. Almost teared up.
So, you want to know what my darkest sins are? Don’t hold your breath. I only give as much as I get, and your pathetic excuse for a confession doesn’t even make up for the calories I’m burning writing this.
Such a shame. I was about to pull out the big guns and give you la crème de la crème (I’m talking jaw-dropping stories), but now I’m not sure you deserve the good stuff.
So, brace yourself, angry chick.
