Dedicated to Violet and Olivia

Dear Number 3, I'm not meant to be writing this letter because I don't have feelings for you anymore. I'm not even sure if I had real feelings for you in the first place. But I feel the need to write you this letter because you've been frequenting my dreams ever since the pandemic started, and it needs to go away. But before it goes away, I want to know exactly why your presence is haunting me. Let's psychoanalyze the shit out of this. Around this time last year I was still an emotional wreck, completely possessed by a wave of post-show pessimism. Playing Maria was, at the time, the only thing to have motivated me through life. Being one of my dream roles, I thought I would have never been able to reach such an important goal as a seventeen year old. Because of this concept, my mind would have perceived everything that came along with it to be significant as well. That included (and sadly, still includes) you. You complete asshole. This was your first le...

Dear Number 2, A crush I have barely interacted with, so I'm not actually sure if my feelings for you are true. At the moment I am sitting directly across from you on your right side, and you're talking to ___ about your 4 and a half hour long study session. I wouldn't believe anyone in our year could actually take this studying thing seriously, so it turns out you're impressed me quite a bit. I've heard about your devotion to running, and if you were any other person I would be discouraged to have an interest in you, but because some magical force of nature made me fall for you I find that tolerable. I actually embrace it. Perhaps that would make me motivated to be fit for once. You're attractive. You with your pale skin, almond-shaped eyes, auburn hair covering a side of your forehead... I can't help but take little peeks of your face and stare until you look back at me. That's the moment when I divert my gaze and turn my head around in attempt to ...

Dear Number 1, You're the one who is doing my head in at the moment. I'm writing about several states of paranoia, bliss, perplexity, hopelessness -- you knows, the typical symptoms of being in this love sickness. I think the first time you grew on me was during Wellington. On the first night, all our class stood in a circle in the middle of Cuba Street. Rather than immersing yourself in the circle you sat alone on a bench beside them. I saw this sight from down the street, then realized all of you were standing in the spot where K, B and I were harassed by a woman who threw cuss words at us. We raced toward you while being subconsciously weary of the territory, but the feeling was also being diminished by our class' presence. And yours. So I didn't worry much.  I don't particularly remember being nervous as I started our conversation. My hands weren't shaky, not even from the cold, and my eyes didn't land on anywhere else but on yours. The weak light...