Chapter Text
Date: August 17th, 2015. Monday, 02:17 p.m.
From: [email protected]
Subject: The pen-pal project
Dear Beatrice,
What a misfortune it is that I must leave our dear Leegreat Haven High at this moment. The beginning of a new school year can surely be frightening. You were doing so well in the summer - I’m glad you decided to keep in touch with me during the break, I can tell it meant a lot to you because it meant a lot to me too. Yet, it is what it is and now we must move on.
I know you have only just started your journey with professional help, and since I’m not linked to the school anymore, there isn’t much that I can do for you from now on, dear, which breaks my heart in a million pieces. I don’t think it’s fair to leave you right now after all the progress we’ve been making for the past couple of years, and especially these past few months. It brings me so much pride to see how far you’ve come! Since I’m officially not LH High’s counselor anymore I can finally say you are my favorite, but please don’t mention that to anyone.
Anyway, I have recently been in touch with Mrs. Chad Michaels, who, besides being one of my dearest friends, also happens to be the counselor of the Sacred Heart of Jesus school. She mentioned the existence of a case similar to yours over at their school, of a girl who’s gone through something rather traumatic during the summer and now has developed anxiety symptoms similar to yours. That, of course, gave us an idea - I may be a swamp witch, but I’m a smart swamp witch, right?
Mrs. Michaels and I believe that it is as important for you as it is for the other girl to keep in contact with someone going through something similar, as it will make the path clearer and easier for both of you. Think of it as your own mini support group. I know you well enough to guess that you’ve hated this idea now that I’ve said this, but that you’re also curious enough to try.
I expect you to be aware that this type of interaction does not replace therapy or medications at all, but I do believe it will be of great help to you during your time at school. I don’t want you to feel like you are on your own, even if you have Bendela and your mother, I know that you still refrain yourself from reaching out to them. Even though Mrs. Michaels is there for her, the other girl seems not to be so willing to open up to her either, so I’d say you two maybe need each other a little right now, even if you think you don’t.
Since I know you don’t enjoy having your space invaded, only your email address has been informed to your pen pal. No phone numbers and no names. You can remain anonymous at first if you wish to do so. It is completely up to you.
I’d appreciate it if you could reach out to her first. Her email address is [email protected] . You can tell her anything you’d like to say to me and, perhaps, even more. I also know how fond you are of Nurse Asia, but right now you could use another friend, don’t you think?
Please don’t hate me. And please, at least give it a shot. I’d love it if you could write me a report by the end of the term to let me know how things went between you two. Both Mrs. Michaels and I have put our faith in this project and we wholeheartedly believe it will work out fine.
Let me tell you that I have a great feeling about this. I think you’re going to have a great year ahead of you, dear. And if you don’t, I’m always one email away. And so is your pen pal.
Love,
Counselor Monsoon.
***
Date: August 20th, 2015. Thursday, 01:37 p.m.
From: [email protected]
Subject: pen pal project
Hey.
I don’t really know what to say here, no one told me what to do. Did they tell you what to do? Are we supposed to guess? Whatever. I’d tell you what I’m here for, but I think you’ve figured that one out already.
I don’t want to tell you my name yet. Or ever. But I can tell you that I’m a girl and I’m sixteen and I go to Leegreat Haven High. I can also tell you I would rather stick a fork in my eye than do this, but I’m doing it anyway because I feel a subconscious need to make Mrs. Monsoon, my counselor, proud of my progress, even if she’s bailed on me. Also, I kinda want to be a good person? I think both of us could use that right now.
Can I ask you not to tell me your name either? I think you’ll understand why I’d want us to keep our personal info to ourselves, but if you don’t I’ll explain by telling you that the idea of being acknowledged frightens me. A real person who knows about my real problems in my real life? I’ll pass, thank you very much. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nothing personal, how could it be if I don’t even know you, right? (now you see my point, eh?) It took me a while to open up to Mrs. Monsoon because knowing that I’d have to look at her face again after telling her about literally everything that’s wrong with me was terrifying. That still stands, so I’d rather believe I’m talking to a void instead of a person. Please don’t take offense?
Anyway, we’ve been put in contact for a reason and that is because we’re both a little fucked up, as far as I’ve been informed. Those weren’t the words used, but I hope you don’t mind. This is all that I know about you, that you’re my partner in fucked-up-ness. We should start a club! Like, I haven’t been told any specifics, so if you’d like to talk about it, you’re very welcome to do so, but I understand if you don’t.
I don’t know if you’re ever gonna answer this, or if you’re even real, which I admit would be relieving because you have no idea how hard my hands are shaking as I type this. Maybe this is just a well thought out prank, and if that’s the case, good job Mrs. Monsoon, now please quit playing. On the other hand, a small and stupid part of me wants you to exist because that’s exactly what’ll give me the false sense that everything is okay and that’s all I need for the moment, something to hang on to. I don’t care if it’s fake, it’s something. Fucking something. I’ve been craving something for a while now, I’m just not sure what it is yet.
Maybe I just need someone to exist with me right now.
***
Date: August 22nd, 2015. Saturday, 03:15 p.m
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: pen pal project
Hi there
Guess we’re gonna need a name for that club.
Thanks for reaching out first, if it were up to me, you’d still be waiting. As you said, nothing personal, but talking to people hasn’t been my favorite thing at the moment, especially when I have no clue what to say. If you knew me, you’d know how out of place that seems.
I’m okay with no names, so if you ever need to call me anything, you can call me Jodie, like Jodie Foster. She’s my favorite actress. Have you ever seen Contact? Dead dad on a beach? It’s a masterpiece, you should give it a shot sometime. What should I call you, if I ever need a name?
I’m also a girl and I’m also sixteen, but unlike you, I go to catholic school, which was already the reason behind 60% of my psychological issues. I’m sorry your counselor bailed. Is anyone replacing her soon? I don’t have anything against my counselor, Mrs. Michaels, but she won’t lay off of me, so I’d appreciate it if someone replaced her. Mrs. Michaels, if you’re reading this fuck off.
So, I’m not gonna lie now and tell you I hate this idea 100% because I’m kinda glad I have someone who understands what it’s like to, you know, be a huge fucking mess. I have my friends and all, but it’s not the same. They don’t get what it’s like to be like this. They were there through everything, but I guess I ended up pushing them away a bit. Also, if you don’t mind, I don’t really feel like, you know, going through all that one more time, so if I could just… not talk about it, I won’t. I don’t actually care whether you mind it or not, though, I just thought it’d be a nice thing to say. You’re free to tell me what kind of shit you’ve been through if you want.
Thanks for giving this a shot. I know how hard it must be for you, considering how hard it is for me. But you were right before: I could really use a good person right now. For that, I guess you can count on me to exist with you.
Jodie.
***
Date: August 23rd, 2015. Sunday, 09:46 a.m.
From: [email protected]
Subject: I’m not sure
Dear Jodie,
I like your pen name. I’ve never heard of Contact before, but who knows, I might check it out later. Dad dead on a beach? Or dead dad on a beach? Both sound great. Thanks for understanding me not wanting to say my name, but for now you can call me Dolly, as in Dolly Parton. She’s my favorite singer ever. It’s that old story, a girl grows up poor in a small town but then good things happen to her. I’m waiting for my good things to happen to me. I guess I’ll wait until I’m as old as Dolly herself.
It’s complicated to talk about the things I’ve been through because nothing ever really happened to me to make me the anxious trash bag that I am today, it’s just the way I am. I can’t tell what’s worse: having a reason or not having one. It sucks either way. What I do know is that I’ve been feeling much better lately thanks to Mrs. Monsoon and the new meds I’ve started taking, and this summer hasn’t been exactly terrible since I finally managed to get a job, and now I don’t need to worry so much about money anymore. My mom works too much but things can still get tough sometimes, so I’m happy that I’m finally well enough to help her make ends meet, even if all I manage is to pay for my treatment.
I get what you mean when you say ~this~ is not the same as talking to your friends. It’s difficult for me to open up to people because I’m scared of the consequences that might have, so not having you as a concrete part of my real-life already makes it that much easier. It’s also fun to imagine I’m trading emails with Jodie Foster. And, no, my friends aren’t bad people, they’re actually pretty great and understanding, but it can be too much for me sometimes. My school friend, let’s call her D, always has to help me clean up my mess at school on the bad days. Well, she and the nurse. I don’t think she minds that I’m not super open with her because that’s just the way our friendship flows. She’s also a goth or an emo… She’s one of those people who wear a lot of black, which makes her the tough one in our duo, so I don’t usually bother her with my non-toughness. S, my work friend, is kind of the opposite. She’s one of those high energy people, you know? She loves to hear about my life even if I’m not interesting at all, which is what I tell her every day, but she doesn’t believe it. What kind of teenage life cliche will I have to stumble upon so she’ll finally be satisfied with what I tell her?
Not that I tell her much, again, there isn’t much to tell and what there is… It’s just too intense of an exchange for me to have. I know that both S and D have their own lives and love to tell me about it (and I love to hear them), but the more they tell me about their lives the more I feel like something’s wrong with me. Do you ever get a pungent feeling of unbelonging when you’re around other people? I don’t know if this is my anxiety or if it’s me, but it’s the truest feeling I know.
Like, sometimes my anxiety makes it difficult for me to understand what I feel, even if it’s a real feeling or not, but not when this happens. My unbelonging is always crystal clear in front of me, and it’s everywhere all of the time. I see it from the moment I first look at myself in the mirror to when I create those unattainable scenarios in my head before I fall asleep. It’s the way I look and the way I dress and the way I think and, well, some other things too.
That was a bit much, wasn’t it? Sorry. It’s just… I never said that before. To anyone. Because they wouldn’t get it and also because I’m too afraid to do so. Ugh. Some days I wonder how such a small town can make me feel so lost. I would never give Leegreat Haven this power if I knew how not to. It’s like it’s telling me to get out but doesn’t hear me yelling that I want to get out anyway. And now that was too much again.
I hope you find my lack of emotional balance charming enough to keep talking to me. That was cheesy. Sorry. Will you (Jodie) Foster this kind of behavior? Yeah, that made it worse. What I mean is that I think I am starting to get used to the idea of you, and sharing my stuff with you, and I don’t want that to be gone now and what I really hope is that you feel the same about me.
I actually look forward to hearing back from you.
Dolly.
***
Date: August 23rd, 2015. Sunday, 11:00 p.m.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: I’m not sure
Dear Dolly
I read your email and then I freaked out because I felt like I had written it myself.
I feel the exact same way about my friends, but from what you’re saying, I think I can play into it a little bit better, as in I try to sound as exciting as they do. Or at least I did, but I haven’t been doing that lately. I have barely even talked to them ever since my ~thing~ happened and I’m not sure if they understand why I’m being so weird, but I’m not in the headspace to feed into that now. My friends are G and M and they are both lovely girls, who love partying and boys and all that jazz, and I’m just not right there with them. I mean, I go to the parties and I kiss the boys, but I don’t know how much of it I’d do if I didn’t have to do it with them.
G is more of a romantic, innocent type, you see. She’s a sucker for those Jane Austen novels and to this day nobody understands why the hell she’s friends with me and M. She’s the sensible one out of us three and she’s the one who’s always sober enough to carry us out of the parties. M is a bit more like me, she oozes out chaotic energy. She and I are not only the life of the parties, but we’re the troublemakers at school. We find a way to get in trouble all the fucking time and it’s impossible not to laugh your ass off when you’re with her. Last year we had a debate about reproductive rights and religion and some people were upset we defended abortion and free period products, so the next day all of their lockers were full of (allegedly) bloody pads and tampons, and girl, that detention was worth every single hour. Just so you know, it wasn’t real blood, but it should have been.
I hate catholic school. The funniest thing about it is that other than being bigoted pieces of shit, everyone is as far away as possible from the “catholic values” our school preaches. Oh, and I’m right there with them. I’m not a fan of the bigotry or the whole hooking up with my classmates part of it, I’m more of an illicit substance kind of girl. Alcohol, though named boring by some, is my favorite. I can’t smoke anything inside my house without being caught because of the smell, but I am able to sneak a few bottles up my bedroom and leave them under my bed for whenever I feel like I need to drown some sorrows. The main issue is that this has been nearly every night for the past two months.
I hate that this is what I have been relying on, so I think you can understand why I don’t hate the idea of talking to you. It’s more dignifying than getting drunk on my own at three a.m. on a Wednesday. I not only feel lost in this town, in the middle of all these people, I also feel lost in my own life right now. I still haven’t processed what happened 100% and that makes me so, so unready to move on with my future. I didn’t have the clearest of views before, but now it’s all blurry. When I think of my future I see nothing but I fucking blur and when I think of my present I see nothing but a fucking blur. So, yeah, I get you.
At least I guess it’s a good thing we are lost together.
Jodie.
***
Date: August 24th, 2015. Monday, 09:15 a.m.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: RE: I’m not sure
Dear Jodie,
It might just be the early morning vibes that I’m getting that are making me say this, but maybe this isn’t us being lost. Maybe this is us being found.
At least I hope it’s us being found.
Dolly.