Dear Peter,

I first saw you outside the gas station on Comm Ave. I remember what you were wearing: ripped jeans, sweatshirt from Anti-Social Social Club, and Air Jordans that made me think, “oh, he’s rich.” Your hair glinted in the lamplight, and your eyes sparkled with gold flecks, which I noticed when I attacked you from behind and held a knife to your throat. You brushed my hand when you went for your wallet, which is really what I was after. Your hand was clammy from nerves, or maybe sheer terror, but I was never going to actually hurt you. On the contrary, I knew you’d be the one to hurt me. That is, if we ever got past this awkward first meeting where I was jabbing my swiss army into your neck and you were screaming, “PLEASE, JUST TAKE THE MONEY AND GO.” I took the money, but I didn’t want to go.


Dear John,

John, John, John. I will never forget when we were just 13, and you worked up the courage to ask me to the 8th grade formal. I remember that gym so vividly, because it’s the same place I held you up at gunpoint at our class reunion. You’ve become so successful in the years since 8th grade, with your high-powered executive career, that I couldn’t help but take your Amex Platinum card. How many rewards are on this thing? Nevermind, it doesn’t matter, because the real reward was getting to see you again after all these years of yearning. Seriously though, you must have like 5000 miles.


Dear Josh,

I’m writing to apologize for last week. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time, we were both nervous and a little drunk, and I had just given you a heck of a shiner in pursuit of your Rolex. I admit it, although I definitely stole it because I wanted to sell it on Depop for twice as much as it’s worth, I was also a little jealous that it was a gift from your new flame. Why wasn’t I good enough for you? Kleptomania is only a turnoff when a guy does it. I’m a certified girl boss. Anyway, I am actually sorry about the watch thing, the black eye, and the warning shot I fired into your foot (ok fine, it was a little bit on purpose). But I’m ready to be friends again.


Dear Lucas,

I know it’s been several years since you’ve heard from me. I want you to know that I don’t regret our time together, not for a moment. After I jacked your car, I used it for a road trip that absolutely defined my post-grad summer. 

P.S. Also please don’t expect your car back either! I sold it for parts to a dude named Frank in Texas. Student loans don’t pay themselves!

P.P.S. I also meant to tell you that your mother and I recently had an affair and she’s leaving your father for me. But don’t worry, I know I’ll never be able to replace him.

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