A Letter to the Stars is a series of letters not meant to be read by the people the letter is addressed to.
I was lured by your friend to talk to you. I did not exactly grasp the situation. The gravity of it, at that time. But I knew.
And I was led to a room. And I was told you wanted to talk to me. I sat beside you–you who was crying. The door closed. The box of pizza and cup of soda in front of you was left untouched. You kept sobbing. I did not know how to approach you.
“You are the reason,” I had to lean closer to hear you. “You were a catalyst.” A catalyst for an anger to burst, anger to an event that happened that same week a month ago.
I remember you said you were not angry with me. I took offense of that. Why would you get angry with me? I should be angry at you! But I waved it away.
You told your story to different people. And I wonder if you’ve told them about me. I guess, after all what happened, I and my little association in this whole mess have become insignificant. But sometimes I am left to think, and I guess it’s mostly a fantasy, but are you trying to protect me? Oh, so many could have devoured that little information. Bring me to shame. Oh that little, innocent girl is nothing but a fake, temptress. They could go on!
But I haven’t heard anything… yet.
And I don’t know. And I wish I could care less about this.