“To the most inconsiderate asshole of a friend,I’m writing you this letter because I know that if I say what I have to sayto your face I will probably punch you.I don’t know you anymore.I don’t see you anymore.All I get is a quick text or a rushed e-mail from you every few days. Iknow you are busy and I know you have Bethany, but hello? I’m supposed tobe your best friend.You have no idea what this summer has been like. Ever since we werekids we pushed away every single person that could possibly have been ourfriend. We blocked people until there was only me and you. You probablyhaven’t noticed, because you have never been in the position I am in now.You have always had someone. You always had me. I always had you. Nowyou have Bethany and I have no one.Now I feel like those other people that used to try to become our friend,that tried to push their way into our circle but were met by turned backs. Iknow you’re probably not doing it deliberately just as we never did it deliberately.It’s not that we didn’t want anyone else, it’s just that we didn’t needthem. Sadly now it looks like you don’t need me anymore.Anyway I’m not moaning on about how much I hate her, I’m just tryingto tell you that I miss you. And that well . . . I’m lonely.Whenever you cancel nights out I end up staying home with Mum andDad watching TV. It’s so depressing. This was supposed to be our summerof fun. What happened? Can’t you be friends with two people at once?I know you have found someone who is extra special, and I know youboth have a special “bond,” or whatever, that you and I will never have. Butwe have another bond, we’re best friends. Or does the best friend bond disappearas soon as you meet somebody else? Maybe it does, maybe I justdon’t understand that because I haven’t met that “somebody special.” I’mnot in any hurry to, either. I liked things the way they were.So maybe Bethany is now your best friend and I have been relegated tojust being your “friend.” At least be that to me, Alex. In a few years time ifmy name ever comes up you will probably say, “Rosie, now there’s a name Ihaven’t heard in years. We used to be best friends. I wonder what she’s doingnow; I haven’t seen or thought of her in years!” You will sound like my mumand dad when they have dinner parties with friends and talk about old times.They always mention people I’ve never even heard of when they’re talkingabout some of the most important days of their lives. Yet where are thosepeople now? How could someone who was your bridesmaid 20 years ago noteven be someone who you are on talking terms with now? Or in Dad’s case,how could he not know where his own best friend from college lives? Hestudied with the man for five years!Anyway, my point is (I know, I know, there is one), I don’t want to beone of those easily forgotten people, so important at the time, so special, soinfluential, and so treasured, yet years later just a vague face and a distantmemory. I want us to be best friends forever, Alex.I’m happy you’re happy, really I am, but I feel like I’ve been left behind.Maybe our time has come and gone. Maybe your time is now meant to bespent with Bethany. And if that’s the case I won’t bother sending you this letter.And if I’m not sending this letter then what am I doing still writing it?OK I’m going now and I’m ripping these muddled thoughts up.Your friend,Rosie”

“Dear Son, I would call you by name, but I’m waiting for your mother to decide. I only hope she is joking when she calls you Albert Dalbert. For weeks now I have watched your mother zealously gather her tokens for this box. She’s so afraid of you not knowing anything about her, and it bothers me greatly that you’ll never know her strength firsthand. I’m sure by the time you read this, you’ll know everything I do about her. But you’ll never know her for yourself and that pains me most of all. I wish you could see the look on her face whenever she talks to you. The sadness she tries so hard to hide. Every time I see it, it cuts through me. She love you so much. You’re all she talks about. I have so many orders from her for you. I’m not allowed to make you crazy the way I do your Uncle Chris. I’m not allowed to call the doctors every time you sneeze and you are to be allowed to tussle with your friends without me having a conniption that someone might bruise you. Nor am I to bully you about getting married or having kids. Ever. Most of all, you are allowed to pick your own car at sixteen. I’m not supposed to put you in a tank. We’ll see about that one. I refuse to promise her this last item until I know more about you. Not to mention, I’ve seen how other people drive on the roads. So if you have a tank, sorry. There’s only so much changing man my age can do. I don’t know what our futures will hold. I only hope that when all is said and done, you are more like your mother than you are like me. She’s a good woman. A kind woman. Full of love and compassion even though her life has been hard and full of grief. She bears her scars with a grace, dignity, and humor that I lack. Most of all, she has courage the likes of which I haven’t witnessed in centuries. I hope with every part of me that you inherit all her best traits and none of my bad ones. I don’t really know what more to say. I just thought you should have something of me in here too. Love, Your father (Wulf)”

“So where are they now? Your friends, I mean? You're always telling me about your friends and how you would do anything for them because they are your friends and how in return, they would die for you. I didn't believe it then and I'm not believing it now. All of your friends have gone. The good people, YOUR people, that's what you would call them. It was hard to keep from laughing in your face when you talked like that. I always wondered if that's what you thought I was to you, if I was one of YOUR people. You're so full of shit and now it's even too deep for you to deal with. The truth is that you don't have any friends, not now, not ever. You think you're with someone and then you find that you're just alone in a room with a stranger. You spent so much time running away from yourself, fulfilling imaginary duties to your friends, that you don't even know who you are. When the shit comes down, you can't even count on yourself. Isn't that a shame. Get ready for one of the longest nights ever.”

“Look, I owe you a kind of explanation. I know you probably think I’m a horrid bitch from the plant Schizophrenia, but I’m honestly not trying to mess with your head. I’m just messing with my own head and I seem to have dragged you along the ride. I think you’re nice to me and that scares the fuck out of me. Because when a guy’s a jerk or an asshole, it’s easier because you know exactly where you stand. Since trust isn’t an option, you don’t have to get all freaked out about maybe having to trust him. Right now I am thinking about ten things at the same time, and at least four of those things have to do with you. If you want to leave right now and drive home and forget my name and forget what I look like, I wouldn’t blame you in the least. But what I’m trying to say is that if you did that I would be sorry. And not just sorry in an I-apologize-I’m-so-sorry way, but sorry in a sad-that-something-that-could’ve-happened-didn’t way. That’s it. You can go now. Or we could stay for Where’s Fluffy when Toni’s set is over. I think they’re playing a surprise show here tonight.”

“Noel: A lot of people see friends as something you have on Twitter or Facebook or wherever. If someone wants to read your updates and you want to read their updates, then you’re friends. You don’t ever have to see each other. But that seems like a stupid definition to me. Roo: Yeah.Noel: Although on the other hand, rethink. Maybe a friend is someone who wants your updates. Even if they’re boring. Or sad. Or annoyingly cutesy. A friend says, “Sign me up for your boring crap, yes indeed” – because he likes you anyway. He’ll tolerate your junk. Roo: You have lots of friends. Noel: No, I don’t. Roo: You do. You know everyone at school. You get invited to parties. Noel: I get invited to parties, yeah. And I know people. But I don’t want their updates. Roo: Oh. Noel: And I sincerely doubt they want mine. Roo: I want your updates. Noel: I want your updates. (He looks down, bashfully.) I do. I want all your updates, Ruby.”

“I don’t know if I will have the time to write any more letters, because I might be too busy trying to participate. So, if this does end up being the last letter, I just want you to know that I was in a bad place before I started high school, and you helped me. Even if you didn’t know what I was talking about, or know someone who’s gone through it, you made me not feel alone. Because I know there are people who say all these things don’t happen. And there are people who forget what it’s like to be sixteen when they turn seventeen. I know these will all be stories some day, and our pictures will become old photographs. We all become somebody’s mom or dad. But right now, these moments are not stories. This is happening. I am here, and I am looking at her. And she is so beautiful. I can see it. This one moment when you know you’re not a sad story. You are alive. And you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And you’re listening to that song, and that drive with the people who you love most in this world. And in this moment, I swear, we are infinite.”