Chapter 1
Dear Dick bag Brian-
I knew I hated you because you told me the marshmallow fluff on your sandwiches were from bunnies eating snow and pooping it out. Fuck you, don’t say that about marshmallow fluff.
And I knew that we were NEVER gonna be compatible because you always had a tag sticking up on your clothes and you threw up chocolate milk on saint patricks day. You were supposed to puke green, how much dirt did you eat?
Lastly, you never wanted to see my Minecraft builds, even if they were built for you. Even if I made Mom buy a Wii u just so I could get the game off Ebay just for the power to go out when you were over just for us to feel our pinkies touch just for you to get a sweaty upper lip and a pants tent.
I didn’t mean to say “sorry”, I never meant it, not once. Not when I left you for my cousins at the fish fry, not when my dog chopped off your Skylander figurine with its jowls. Not even did I mean the sorry I said when on that ghost tour of Savannah and you got scared and you wanted to sit next to me again. But, I will say, I wanted you to sit next to me again, to have your red hair crinkle when you flick it over your shoulder, and accidentally slap me in the face with it, too. Or even, to have your pinky touch mine, just once more, to make sure, I still hate you.
