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Letters From A Nobody


This is the story of my Junior year in Highschool, unfinished, but it will be finished in due time. These events are true and I write as life goes along. Whatever happens next in my life will determine the next chapters of the book. Please leave reviews so that I may become a better writer. Thank you and happy reading. 

Chapter One

5:30 a.m 

I didn't want to be late for my first day back at High school.

I mean, I did.

I didn't want to show up at all but f*** my feelings, I guess. I got dressed and skipped breakfast as I usually do. Everyone always talks about how breakfast is the most important meal of the day yet I can't eat it without feeling like I need to hurl into oncoming traffic. I sure as hell didn't say goodbye to anyone before fleeing the house; it's back to the time where my family and I don't speak because my schedule is, once again, occupied by something that will dictate the rest of my life.

As I stepped out of the house and trudged up the hill, I realized that I liked the month of August. It feels that I, rarely, like anything at all as of late. It is the last bit of warmth that I get to feel before getting rushed by the winter months; thus beginning the season of puffy coats, cold wind chills, white girls wearing Ugg boots as they consume everything pumpkin spice, and walking outside looking like a complicated, seven layer dip with the added zest of a 2007 Britney Spears meltdown.

I hate looking like the Michelin man but it’s better than snow-coning while waiting for the bus. Speaking of which, it was 6:45 when that piece of junk came screeching to a halt at my bus stop; exhaust pipes working overtime to pump black smog into the atmosphere, dissipating into the Earth's receeding ozone layer along with my will to live.

6:58 am

We pulled up to the front of the school; me and that clanking yellow beast I rode in on. I felt the urge to escape through the evacuation door but then I'd be calling more attention to myself than it was worth. The least amount of people that know I exist, the better life will be for both parties. As I got off of the bus and walked throught the entrance of the school, I looked all around me in a sea of people.  I was all alone but being in a familiar surrounding, there was no need for me to panic about being on my own. I knew exactly where I could hide and not be seen by anyone until the bell rang considering the fact that I already had 2 years of casing the building under my belt. But today, I felt like never staying in one spot would be better therapy for me; to immerse myself into the sh**hole that I would be trapped inside of until the day the sweet release of summer rolled back into my lap.

I walked aimlessly around the building, checking out hallways and classrooms; each direction giving back a memory that had been trapped there from the previous years. Some good, some crazy, some frivolous and not even worthy of being mentioned. Some memories were as taboo as the teacher who got fired for being sexually involved with a student. If one could put this school underneath the world's largest blacklight, everything would be brighter than the sun itself; blinding any outside viewer with the crimes committed all the way back to when this place was overrun by gangs.

Ahh... i've said too much.

 I sulked back to "Main street", the hallway where everything happens; anything that was showy, flashy, frou-frou, in-your-face... like dances, prom-posals, displays of art done by students way more talented than you will ever be in anything you put your societally confined mind to...... 

I remembered two years ago. I used to like a guy, things happened, but those things were frequently pushed to the back of my mind; strictly taboo in its own crazy category...

just keep walking, you're safer if you don't stop walking...

After scrutinizing the big, white sheets of paper near the cafeteria for my new homeroom, I went to the windows directly at the end of the hallway of red lockers where my friends and I had always met. The windows looked out to the back yard of the school, adjacent to the baseball field that was to the right side of the track field. There, around the track that doubled as a football field, stood the infamously uncomfortable bleachers that were made out of the same material as the slides from our childhoods that nearly cooked us all alive on a hot, sunny day.

From the windows, you could see other kids playing an occasional game of soccer or frisbee during lunch. The soccer ball always found a way to pummel the sh** out of the glass; never breaking but wobbling like a drunkard. The boys always kicked the ball upwards on purpose to get a reaction out of those who were behind the window, not paying attention to them. 

I nearly blacked out. It happens to me when I snap out of a memory. Sometimes, I end up staying in that old reality for far too long because the past is where I feel the most secure. No matter how many times the memories play in my head, I will always know how it ends. There is a level of comfort in that. I can lose myself there. 

I tend to forget that I am lost in thought or that I am staring directly at a real live person and they're getting weirded the f*** out that I won't stop staring for some reason and then someone throws something at me to make sure that I didn't have a goddamn stroke and ....

Breathe ... someone is coming.. 

At that moment, I had forgotten that HE went to the same school until he walked by. Looking everywhere except where I happened to be standing; going to find his little posse. 

I will never... forgive you..

The bell couldn't have rang any sooner. I wanted to get started with my day A.S.A.P so I could trick myself into thinking it was over quicker. My logic is undeniable. 

As I entered homeroom, I recognized people. This is usually not a great thing for someone who is trying to hide but it was a good indicator that I wasn't held back. I was not in the mood for all the bulls**t that today had in store for me. Besides, my anxiety had already piqued at the sight of the school bus rolling down the street to reap me for a hell in which I did not want to go. 

After being handed my schedule, I noticed it looked like a certain phrase, I couldn't quite put my finger on it so I decided to come up with my own: "death on a cracker". It was decided, my schedule looked like death on a cracker. Indirectly meaning that the cracker, symbolizing my life, would crumble under the sightest amount of pressure and I would find myself struggling to climb out of the ninth layer of hell. I wouldn't even want to go home anymore because I knew what would await me whenever I pulled out my notebooks.... plural.

I caught myself missing those little "No Homework" tickets from elementary school. But, even if I decided to burn my homework or throw it across the room in a rage quit, I knew my grades depended on these stupid pieces of paper. I knew I would have to work at some point. I was always the person who goofed off, didn't study, but passed everything as if it was a test of common sense. It made a lot of people angry, or even jealous. This year, there was definately going to be no time for that. I used to be able to pass with absolutely no effort. Used to, sadly past tense.

Speaking of used to being something, I used to be the person that everyone talked to. Once upon a time I had a gazillion friends, a rough exaggeration. But the first day into my junior year I sensed somethignwas extremely different. By Thursday, day four, I realized the drastic decline in those I used to know, giving me a sense of unimportance and lonliness. Maybe the others felt the same. The hell do I know? No one talks to anyone as much as they used to because we're all worried, trying to get our sh** together for our last years.


Wait.. why do you care?? We're avoiding everyone, remember?


*Bell rings to start the first day in perpetual damnation* ..... First Period

I found myself in first period Yoga, sitting on a shitty, Dollarstore mat with my eyes closed. As the last light that seeped through the protection of my eyelids was gone and the background music started to play, I started rethinking my life a little bit. I was sitting there, peacefully trying to get my zen on but for some reason I find that I myself can never silence the sh** storm that frequently goes down in the distorted chamber I call a brain. My hand kept glossing over the cavernous bite marks all over the mat left by some highschool reject that had a taste for cheap, spongey mats that smelled like wet dog.

My eyes were closed but I could still see HIM. Every time I close my eyes, my mind takes the liberty in shuffling through horrible memories where he happened to be present.

Certain things wouldn't bother you if they meant nothing to you. 

That... or i'm just a disturbed teen. No matter how many hours of sleep I have lost or times I have blacked out in class because I was having an argument with the old HIM, the same HIM really, I would rather have a mind that speaks. A mind that speaks is a very advantageous thing for it to do no matter what, and I have learned to depend on its company. 

I'm going to break you.... 

Suddenly, I felt a part of my brain, the sector of strictly taboo, having a memory jailbreak. HE was my first love and was very special to me. I never felt that way about any other boy at any time before this point in my short life.

Downward Dog.

I used to think that boys were a waste of time. Even before that, dating all the way back to elementary school, I never even thought that boys were there for loving. They were my friends, simple as that. For all I cared, we were all the same. 

Sun Salutation.

But health class later changed my narrow-minded perspective and ruined my childhood all in one sitting of "Family Life". There are some things you really wish you could un-see and that was it. Or was it in the category of " don't wanna see, can't look away?" By middle school, the boys were completely accustomed to health. More immature than ever, It seemed as though health was their favorite subject regarding sex but when was the last time that any of them actually groomed themselves? Why are the guys around me so dusty and busted yet I get treated like i'm the ugly nigga?


After AP Lang and Precalculus, I could finally enjoy myself in my favorite class; Orchestra. But as soon as I walked through the double doors, I felt a heat stroke coming on. The A/C in that sector of the school wasn't working because, if all the arts kids died, the school would have even MORE money to funnel into football. 

As the months get colder that the rooms I will walk into would be even more so than the last. My school was notorious for being out of sync with air conditioning; like the clothes in the store windows that will never match its season. In the winter, the AC was on full blast. If it were in the warmer months, you could bet your sweet a** that the heat was coming on. 

After orchestra is lunch, my other favorite "subject". But to be honest, I am failing. The first week of school I don't even think about walking into the cafeteria. There are too many new freshman, and everyone is still trying to figure things out. It looks like a battle field, so like a good little lamb, I watch the village idiots fight over their meat from afar. *tummy grumbles*

You deserve to starve. You could stand to lose some weight....

As I walked back down Main street, who did I happen to see but HIM.

Go talk to him first...

No. It's all I've ever done. I have to keep reminding myself that he would talk to me if he wanted to. It's hard to know that you aren't worth someone's time.

Just then, a memory from my Freshman year broke free. 

The thing about me and everyone else is that, eventhough one side of you tells you one thing, there will always be an opposing side to any matter at hand. One side of me had told me what I did was very good. I would never send someone on a wild goose chase or make them guess what I am thinking. I am good at beig blunt and matter of fact about things.

I saw myself. I was sitting in orchestra two years ago, dealing with the pro and con of my conscience. I could either have paid attention or I could listen to the hostile sounds of Pro and Con having a go at each other. To be frank, as I always am, I wasn't at all pleased with either of the choices. One intimidated me because I felt as if I was not good enough and the other made me nauseous and overrun with feelings of indecisiveness. I gave him the letters because he was a very reserved personality. I wanted him to be comfortable and communicate without having to say a word. 

As the year went on, there was gift giving, letters were written, shade was thrown, and I remember the day HE told me that he didnt feel the same way. Regardless, this was months after the first letters were written in which he only gave me one in return. I had to ask for it.

Even after he put me on hold, dragged my feelings through the dirt, and didn't even come to my bithday party, I was still not through with him yet. It seemed my mind forgot all the wrong it had been done and reset everytime I saw his face. He always made me feel as if I was being fit into a schedule; never really belonging there. 

I remembered one day when I was walking with him and we were having a conversation. One of his friends from the posse came through and pushed me out of the way and walked off with him. I had to call on Jesus at that point because homegirl was really trying to die that day. I never figured a person could be so rude. Neither of them looked back as if I was never there. 

You never mattered and you never will ..... go eat all the cookies from the snack kiosk, you fat b****

I shut that memory back into the farthest recesses of my mind. It hurt so much to think about it. It hurts to know that I wasn't worth the truth back then and it hurts to know I'm not worth the time now. I remembered all of the times I pulled him aside and talked to him privately about how I was feeling, asking him to change. He taught me that people don't change for those whom they deem to be unimportant.  

I changed, however, and I'm feeling as if i'm losing myself. It's hard to stay true to all of who you are when what's going on is bringing out a side of you that you don't know. I even reminisced over the time we kissed on the last day of school, Freshman year. I remember how I felt knowing that was the first, last, and only time something like that would happen with a someone like him. It's hard to wait for something you know might not happen but it's even harder to give up when you know it's everything that you wanted...


.. everything you think you want


I let that memory linger far longer than it should have until it overstayed its welcome.

 Back into your chamber. 


... until next time 


Chapter 2

This horrible state of mind would influence countless nights on FaceTime with one of my good friends, Alex. We were talking about all of the shade that was thrown my way, Freshman year. This topic seems to never get old. I always find myself stuck in the past. Hating the past. Conversing about the same guy who claimed that he lost my letters, my words, and not a care in the world was given. He even said I had only written two. I know I wrote way more than that so why lie to the person who wrote them all? He must really think I'm stupid.... or that he's really smart. Both of which are inaccurate as f***.

I then remembered that he had written me one letter, Freshman year. It was shitty but.. I kept it on my wall, lower than my bunk bed, behind my bookshelf.

Out of sight but far from out of mind 

It was attached to a poster I had ripped off of the wall, but that was Sophomore year, when he was dance partners with one of my upperclassmen friends. I grabbed the letter, scowled at the picture, then scrambled back up my bunk top bunk to read it to Alex. 

I remember there being no closure, feeling, or sense put in to it for the love of God.... exactly how I remembered HIM. 


An Empty Letter to a No-Good Nobody

"Yeah, so I had no idea of how to start this letter (I spent 10 minutes just thinking about it), so this is how I'll start. Anyway, I forgot what you wanted me to write about , so I'll just talk about my weekend."

Unbelievable! That arrogant piece of garbage. Who starts a letter to someone else and then proceeds to speak about themselves? Why couldn't I see that he never cared about me? Oh, you wanna know what REALLY made me laugh??...

"By the way, I just realized, I don't know how to spell your name." 

When I read that, it felt like I was getting stabbed. Multiple stabs.

stab stab stabby stab 

How does it feel, to like some one, to hang around them and talk to them everyday, and still not be important enough to be called by name? A letter, addressed to me... couldnt even be ADDRESSED to me. 

It's Danielle...... My name is Danielle. 

He said he never meant to hurt me , that he knew how it felt. No, he never knew what it felt like. Sure he had liked a girl but his situation was no different from a regular one. You find out they’re not interested and you move on. Mine was, you think they’re interested but you’re not sure, the rest of the year they let you devote your time to them, you talk, you laugh, they make sure you feel comfortable around them so you don’t leave...  but in the end its just a huge game and you never started off on the same playing field.


You were always the pawn. You're good at that.


The letter continued. He said that he liked Orchestra because of me ... and all the other people there that made him laugh. He brings you up, then he slams you down and puts the car in reverse while you are heard screaming from the trunk as you and the car fall into the ocean and sink. He said he kept my letters because he liked to read them. So, this is proof right here that I wrote multiple letters and he knows it. Does this mean he still has them but lied about keeping them? God, my mind is a mess.

Why the hell do I care? Why should I? 

I never understood him, not one bit. He never told me how he was feeling and never gave me any clue on what to do next. It was like being put in a dark room and asked to find the door but to no avail; never having been given a flashlight or directions of any kind. He’s so mysterious to me not because that is his personality but because I am so used to being candid 100% of the time, when someone else is shy and reserved, or lies, it puzzles me.

Why can’t everyone just be forward?

By then, even little kid could guess the best option would have been to walk away and never look back. Attention given is attention received but my feelings were unreciprocated.  I tried to be the bigger person but I didn’t know I would end up being the babysitter who went a year without being paid. Unintentionally saying,” You broke my heart? Here, have some more. Make sure you sink your teeth deep into my veins this time.”


You are so stupid.


Who am I even more upset with? Myself. I let this happen to me. Regardless of what it looks like, it takes two to break a heart. One holds the knife, and the other lets the murderer inside. It was my fault, too.

In all honesty, I don’t know whether he hates me or not. Why would he hate me if nothing bad ever happened to him? Is he embarrassed or is it pride that’s in his way? I don’t even hate him, like he probably thinks I do. I’ve just been waiting for the day he would grow up and speak for himself, or speak to me. I just don’t like the way everything ended.

Maybe he’s just trying to forget me and all the memories that come with. I wouldn’t blame him, at some point I tried to forget about him too. But we all know that trying to forget some one only makes them more omnipresent. And soon, you’ll be able to hear their voice and construct their being without them ever having to be there. Soon, you’ll be like me. I have stopped writing him letters now. Believe me, I wanted to write down exactly how I felt but somehow the paper stayed blank this time. I couldn’t have described it any better. Sorry after sorry after sorry. Sorry is not enough. Sometimes, you actually have to change.




After a while all the months seemed the same to me and all the days blended together. The music room didn’t get fixed until later that week. 

Is it Thurday?

This most likely happened only because our teacher sent students to the nurse’s office to complain about the heat and sell it. We were not only musicians but we would be actors for a day. Finally I can say goodbye to the heat strokes.


Chemistry class is still a load of crap. Each day, every student has to move up one seat. Tomorrow is Friday and thankfully I get to sit in the back, but today I was seated in the first chair next to one of my new found friends. He hates the class, maybe even more than I do. But what he hates the most? That girl that has singled herself out from the class and has a desk at the front of the room, turned sideways, away from the normal setup. She always raises her hand, and is one of those people who act supercilious around other kids they think are not “on their level”. Always sitting there with a complacent look on her smug little face. But I’m not surprised. Every classroom has their own “Yeezus”. A classmate who thinks they have all the answers but maybe likes to show off their knowledge of certain subjects because they haven’t the time to construct any other skills.

Maybe it would do you some good to learn some of those skills, too



 Today was the worst Friday in record history. I got my locker today in first period and I was ecstatic when I learned it was in the music hallway. The downside was the part when I opened it. I found a bunch of junk from a past student named Cristian. Apparently Cristian wasn’t big on cleaning because I found old food in a plastic bag from God knows how long ago.

The hell is this? ... Moldy Cheese??! 

I also found his shoes, without their laces, a duffle bag with food crumbs, and work he never intended on turning in. I was absolutely horrified at the smell and I wanted to put the most distance in between me and that stench. In a fit of disbelief and rage at a boy named Cristian that I had never met, I immediately threw all of his crap on the hall floor like a crazed ex-girlfriend. I felt like I was moving someone out of their home. Turns out, the only family moving out were the roaches that had been settled in his duffle bag for quite some time.


If that wasn’t bad enough, later on in the day, an upper class boy I had given up on walked by me a good deal with his little girlfriend under his arm. He looked at me the first time passing and I only know this because a friend told me so. I, however, had been looking at the floor. The second time he passed me he waved. I immediately swerved him by rolling my eyes and looking off into a faraway land that didn’t exist. I don’t know how he felt about that but for the rest of the day he always looked at me while hugging his girlfriend and even when they weren’t around each other. 

The art of subtlety is WEAK with this one.

I saw HIM today. He was outside talking to his friends and the girl he used to like. My friends told me not to read too much into it but knowing me, that’s exactly what I was sure to do. I can’t help but feel like absolute crap. HE was standing outside flipping through his phone. He got what looked like a congratulations from some of the guys that play soccer outside and a hug from the girl he used to like. Naturally, this made me suspicious as to what he was getting congratulated on. The fact that he was scrolling through his phone made me think that he was going through messages. The fact that he received a hug from the girl he used to like made me feel as if he was laudable for moving on and finding someone new. To you, I know, this may not make any sense. But, my brain immediately told me that was exactly what he was being congratulated on. Did he have a girlfriend? Is it the new girl he dances with?  I know it shouldn’t hurt and I know I shouldn’t care one bit, but the inevitable happens anyway. That’s what inevitable means. I felt like I wanted to die but then I remembered it’s not the smartest thing to do because there’s plenty of time to be dead. Plenty of time after this frustrating, irritating, and irrelevant life I lead. I hate feeling this way and I want someone to take this pain away from me. I don’t want this heart either, they can take that too. It hurts so much and I’m the only one out of the both of us still living and trudging through the dark. Why do bad things always happen to good people?  But then I laughed a little, a dark one even for me, and then my Con spoke to me.

What makes you think you’re such a good little girl? 

Chapter 3 (Teaser)

It was finally the end of that miserable day and I could finally go home. I waited for my bus driver to realize I was standing there, for him to get his feet off of the dash, and begrudgingly open the door. I don’t know what his problem but he needs to move his issues off the road. He is a reckless driver and I fear for my life in the months of sleet covered streets. I climbed up the stairs and found a seat located relatively in the middle of the bus. That way, if we got in a crash, I could escape through the emergency door. 

One of my old friends, Ying, from elementary school sat next to me. Being the way she is, she asked me how my day was. Of course I told her about the upperclassman, and HIM. I left the locker part out of it because even I didn’t want to remember that. She told me the reason the upperclassmen dates freshmen is because of an accident he had, his Freshman year. Apparently, someone had slipped laxatives into his soda. He dates freshmen girls because they are new, and a freshman wouldn’t know that. I didn’t know that.... But I know now. Even now that I know, I really don’t care. She also told me that her friend, another girl I have known for a very long time, had gone out with him. They had broken up because he was being a dick to her. Now she roams the halls, and whenever she sees him, she tells him to kill himself. I love her spunk. Hannah is so fierce. Maybe it was a good thing I never went farther with him. I could have ended up with my feelings hurt once again.

We started talking about “rebound guys”.  I always dated guys because I tried to get HIM off of my mind. They were my distractions for the moment but like drugs, none were permanent. She explained to me that there are always two situations to being in love. Either they love you and you don’t feel the same way, or you love them and they don’t feel the same way for you. How in the world does anyone get together at that point? But the thing is, I go out with guys to make their dreams come true because that is all I want for myself. If a guy really likes me but I’m not all that into him, I say yes. Why?, because I want them to gain confidence for when they grow older. They can look back and say, “Well, I got a yes from the last girl I liked, so why should I be afraid to ask THIS girl?” I mean, how cool would it be for your crush to like you back?... That’s exactly what I give them. I know no one would do that for me so, I give them what they want so they can be happy. When do I get to be happy. I’m not the same person I used to be. I’m constantly writing raps and poems to vent my anger. I play the violin, sometimes when I am angry because it helps me dispose of some of what I was feeling. But the one thing I do the most when I am angry is exercise. I run, maybe to sweat and release the demons residing inside of me. I have quite a bit.

After saying goodbye to Ying, getting off the bus while lugging my huge instrument, purposefully not looking the bus driver in the eye, I started home in my socks. I took off my adidas slippers because it was the end of the day and I like feeling the grass close to my feet. I walked up the crooked steps of my bright orange, disproportionate porch and avoided stepping on loose nails here and there. I was then greeted at the door by our cleaner, Ms. Silvia. She is a most godly lady, and has the positive attitude that anything is possible. With God by your side, of course. After asking me how my day had gone, she went back to cleaning the kitchen while listening to the sermon on her favorite gospel station. I put all of my stuff down and went into the basement. If there was ever a time to exercise when I was troubled, this was another time I could not overlook.

A couple hours later, after listening to my Pro and Con have a fight over what I should do next, I decided, in the end, to text an old friend. To add more detail, specifically the girl HE had liked. In her replies, she told me that he had quit his little “posse”. I was shocked. I thought that that was his life. Such a rigid schedule, I thought he practically lived at school. But apparently, he had to because he couldn’t handle everything. Everything being school and work. So, I had nothing to worry about. Whatever his life is like, he’s doing whatever he has to do whether it involves a girl or not.

I don’t even know why I was so curious over that. I have a boyfriend, anyway. Well, now I do, but probably not for long. This all happened after a very long conversation over Facetime and multiple texts back and forth. Maybe even a bit of this was due to the fact that I did his summer work. He’s a jock so naturally football will be his top priority. He asked me out on a Monday, but being who I am, I knew it wouldn’t last long. He said he would like to see where we could go.... after football season is over. This is what you get for dating a jock. But it shouldn’t come down to that. If they love and care for you enough, they will make time. Simple as that.  I had clearly achieved gaining neither.