Dedicated to Violet and Olivia

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...

Dear Leg and Vi, Seven days short of two months since I have sent you the last letter, and I have a valid reason for my absence. Sort of. By the end of term 1 I swear I have attempted to write you a load of letters, currently sitting in my drafts inbox. Each are incomplete and, coincidentally, have all been written during my religious education periods. This subject is the perfect time to write letters to the two of you. It's during school so my energy is still not completely diminished, the teacher is completely careless of our actions (evidence: the second I wrote that she just passed my desk without questioning why my fingers are tapping on the keyboard so quickly), and I am sitting alone at a four-person desk. What could be a more peaceful setting than where I am now, in a body odorous classroom, an hour away from finishing the day. Today is also the day before I get shipped off with several people in my year to a camp with no wireless internet and phone service, so obvious...

Dear Leg and Vi, I believe I owe tasks to each of my subjects on this Wednesday night at the hour of 2146, but I'm making the spontaneous decision to write this letter with earphones plugged into the heavenly rapping of Ms. Lauryn Hill and sitting at my wooden desk in the corner of my room. Nothing like a calm night. I've been thinking a lot about how I treat each other lately. This came to thought within the span of three days, where I have a) made someone scream with utter hatred at me to the point where they lost their voice, b) made someone laugh at me to the point where they lost their voice, and c) put on a personality that isn't often revealed to the general audience but has been unveiled like the opening of a grand statue. The first event I never had any negative intention, let alone the presence of it, toward the person. The same sentiment applies to the next one. However, with the third there may have been some deliberation in those actions. Come to think of it...

Dear Leg and Vi, How out of my mind do you think I am to start a blog dedicated to you two? Allegra and Violet, the names of which I plan to give to very important people in my future life. I'm not actually adamant both of you will come as I intend for the both of you to be like. You could be born as two boys, or just not come into existence at all. Nevertheless, I want to write to the both of you. For now I want to hold onto the idea that I have two people I can completely open my thoughts to. I mean, I do have people in my life so far I already confide in, but you two are different. You are the people who will come from me. Composed of my strengths, my vulnerabilities, my good looks and charm (*cough* a joke *cough*) and my entire self overall. I have yet to meet either of you, but for now I'm truly looking forward to writing you these letters. Consider them diary entries. Glimpses of my late teenage years. Hopefully when you meet me as a thirty-something year old doctor dr...