Tangible Schizophrenia

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Dear John IV: We Will Get By

Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gen. Hartigan and Nancy.
Feedback: Good lines, bad ones, and why you liked/disliked them.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Title and quote from here.
Summary: Four years and sheís still not distracted.

***

ďwe will fix our hearts over,
the south wind says so.Ē
--The South Wind Says So, Carl Sandburg

* * *

Dear Hartigan,

We broke up. God, I hope you can still read this letter through all the blots. I would write it again, but Iím down to my last sheet of paper and I donít want to leave my room because of how blotchy my face is. I told myself I wasnít going to cry, but Iím sniffling anyway. Itís a good thing you canít see me because of how disgusting I look.

I donít know what went wrong. Everyone is telling me that it wasnít my fault, that boys suck or that everyone goes through this, but that doesnít help much. Maybe it wasnít my fault, but it still hurts me. And maybe everyone breaks up at least once in their lives, but thatís them, not me. This is my first break-up, and it wasnít very nice.

I guess I should be glad that it wasnít because he was cheating, or smacking me around. For a while a friend of mine hung out with this guy who was always bossing her, telling her what to wear and calling her bad names like the high-schoolers use. We were constantly telling her to stop putting up with it, but...well, he was the biggest kid in school. Itís a good thing she has an older brother thatís even bigger, but he should have come home from the army sooner.

Iím still crying. I feel like an idiot. I donít think I loved him or anything like that, because weíre way too young and I still giggled whenever he tried to kiss me, but he was still really fun to be around, most of the time. He made me laugh. And on Valentineís Day he hid roses in my locker, and they must have been really expensive. Iím going to miss him. I donít know if thatís a good thing or not, and I donít care. I miss him already.

And here I am, talking about my stupid little problems. I heard a fight broke out in the prison and some inmates got hurt, and I prayed really hard that you werenít one of them. I donít know where you are, and I donít know how to find out, and it bothers me. When I get to high school next year, I bet Iíll be able to find out. Iím getting really good at looking up things. My English teachers always really like my reports, and I spend less time on them than a lot of other people because I know where to look for books. Do you get books? Iíll try to write longer letters when I get more paper, just in case. I can write you summaries about the stuff we have to read in class. Itís probably too kiddie for you, but itís the best I can do.

Thinking of you,

Cordelia

***

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