It is so hard to simply speak to you, Tiffany Rohrback.

Never did I think I would ever feel this helpless after all the advice and power I've gained from experience, but I haven't learned a thing from my mistakes. Every second is another one to waste on sadness and over-romanticized hopelessness which at some point in the day I filter into a sappy poem or song. Someone named Gabrielle is watching me and my every move in my mind, even though the real Gabrielle doesn't give a fucking shit. I am still disgusted with myself as she would be with me, and as she would be with this. This is the only way I can express any of this, and all I can do is hope that maybe you will read it and maybe it will change something....anything....

Why do you want to marry him? Why do you want to marry? Sure you're getting older, but you have so much more to look forward to. If you marry him you'll be settling down. You're going to college. Don't you want to keep having these great memories? Don't you want to go places and have fun with your life? Wouldn't you like to still act naive and young while you can and jump off a cliff into a beautiful river with a group of great friends somewhere? Marriage is something I don't believe. You won't stay happy. Things will corrupt. Marriage almost always results in not working out, and you're so young. There is so much of your life ahead of you. You're not even in your twenties, you're beautiful, you don't need a marriage and a life of values to be secure. I can't pretend I know anything about this. I wish I knew you. I shouldn't talk. I just want you to be making a mistake. I want there to be some slight evidence of change, some slight chance that I have a chance.

Why did it have to be you, Tiffany Rohrback? You beautiful adult, you woman. You've had your youth, you've grown up, or you think you have. Whenever I see you I can't help but to feel like a creepy, ugly, dumbass who is far too young and out of place to hold even a small role in your life. There is you, so gorgeous and nice. I have always admired the black clothes you wear when you sing. Particularly the black flower you wear in your hair that contrasts so great with your bright, shining, blond hair. You've probably done so little wrong in your life. You seem like such a good person. Why do I get this feeling to the pit of my stomach whenever I see you, this feeling that gnaws at me and causes me to waste my life chasing after you and leave everything else behind? What should I do when I try as hard as I fucking can to let this idea of us go? I live for this idea, this idea that one day we can be in a room somewhere playing music together and I can hear your beautiful voice amplified through a microphone as my friends and I play our instruments. The idea that somewhere, someday, we can be alone. That I can be something more to you than the mud in your eyes. That we can kiss and camp alone in a forest somewhere. I'd wake in your arms and for each memory we could have I could have a song to remember it by. The idea that one day we can dance, and we can forget about everything bad that ever happened, ever.

...All of this and I can't get a word out but "good" when I look at you face to face as you ask me how I am.