Letters To Juliet (Mila)

Dear Juliet,

I am writing to you because you were 14 and you barely knew him but you still killed yourself for him. Frankly, I think that you’re clichéd and a stupid hormonal teenager because neither do I endorse killing oneself (for heartbreak or any other reasons) nor do I think you knew him well enough to love him.

I am writing to you because I’m having an annoying day. Ah, Juliet, I love my mother so and sometimes I feel so ungrateful. My dad told her that I would react to a certain news in a positive, caring daughter-like way and she disputed it. So, to check, she called me up. As it turns out, she was right. When she hung up, she said “Thanks for proving my judgement about you right.”

I hate that she knows me. And I hate that I can’t dispute her. I hate that I’m not the better daughter she deserves and I hate that I don’t even want (or care enough) to be the better daughter that she deserves.

Enough about my mother, let’s move to that guy I was moaning about- the sweet, cute, amazingly charming one who I romanticized. After he moved away, I started writing him emails because letters are much better than random messages. So, he told me that he didn’t write much so out of my six letters, he replied to one. I kept writing because I had this romantic notion in my head of this girl who wrote a 100 letters, one a day, every day over the summer for this boy she liked. I guess that it happens only on cheap television.

Today, he told me to write shorter letters so that it prompted him to reply.  I don’t write spools of yarn about how much I like him, Juliet. I don’t. They can’t be longer than 500 words at the most. That’s barely anything. So guess what Sunshine? I’m not going to write letters at all. How’s that for short?

I don’t know Juliet. I’ve moved on- I understand that but I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I feel normal. I feel good. I've gone clubbing (and I got picked up by a guy. I stayed out till four in the morning. I've gone to a concert. (All of these are stories for later, of course). I feel like I did before I was with him. And that’s good. He’s an amazing guy and things didn’t work out but in my irritation today, I realized that I have moved on. I’ll write him a last letter- a brief, poetic one that he wanted.

Somehow, there are no ifs and buts. I’m surprised. I got closure Juliet. I’ve moved on. I’m happy and I love it. I love this summer Juliet. I’ve met so many new people and I’ve done things that I haven’t before. Often, I look at myself and feel guilty but I’m not splurging in a splurging sort of way. This summer feels normal only everyday feels like a good day. Except this one.  Okay, maybe today’s a good day and I’m just whiny.

Juliet, I’m writing to you because I saw the movie, Letters To Juliet, last night with Arya. I wanted to pour my heart to you in the most romantic, poetic way but as I am writing, I realize that I am not suffering and I am not unhappy. I live a good life Juliet.

Love,

Mila