Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Wait, what?

But the library was closed on Sunday.

He must’ve worked something out with the school to get the books. That’s the only explanation. I don’t overthink it for a moment longer, speed-walking to aisle six to grab the book and hopefully my letter to Ms. Callahan.

Please be there.

Please be there.

Please be there.

I could sob tears of joy when I spot the crumbled sheet of paper. It’s still there. Same pag—

Wait.

At first, I think I’m imagining things. Then I see them. The scribbles, the words, the comments. Someone replied to me.

Even worse, someone corrected me.

>

Now, before I proceed with my rant, I’d like to apologize (not really) for any mistake I might make in this letter that your never going to get.

**Your is the possessive adjective, you’re is you are. JESUS, IT’S NOT THAT HARD.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Who the heck does he think he is? I say he because the handwriting looks like a boy’s.

I’m in a bit of a time crunch between trying to graduate high school, score a once in a life time scholarship

**Once-in-a-lifetime. Needs hyphens. My eyes are burning.

* * *

So what if I called u an asshole?

**For fuck’s sake. U? Really? Two more letters. How hard was it to add TWO LETTERS?

* * *

It’s not like anyone is ever going to read this anyway.

**Well, this is awkward…

* * *

Sincerely,

From the bottom of my heart,

Go fuck yourself

- L

**L, huh? I wonder what your real name is. Oh, I know! L…earn how to fucking spell? :D

And now he’s mocking my “name.”

I shouldn’t have signed the letter in the first place. I only did it out of habit. Chose L, short for Love, off the top of my head. I guess you could say the nickname “Love” has sentimental value for me, which is something this dickwad couldn’t even begin to understand.