Don't rush to throw the sheet away. I'm aware you'd laugh many times at the thought that I'd written a letter. The fact is, it's normal to presume so early, the truth is, I wouldn't if I were you.
You're fair, that's obvious. You love to display to the extreme, whichever parts of you support this assertion. The other boys tell you they're moved. The fact is, fair is beautiful; the truth is dark is beautiful, too.
Society is changing time after time. It's because of advancement that 'old' differs from 'new'. Fashion styles trend and become old-fashioned later. Fame fades faster than famine. Lives leave earth, too. Like the many that have faded, we stand the chance to be forgotten. Why the distance? Or is my complexion infectious?
The first time I met you, I thought you were so quiet that you would not scream 'Ouch!' at a pinch at your skin. But then I realised, after your argument over a make-up set, that you were the loudest person I had ever known.
I would be as unfair as bitumen to say you're not beautiful, but to say you are, is to be echoing your words. You have said it a gazillion times that we don't see it anymore. The fact is, beauty attracts; the truth is, it fades away, too.
Don't discard this sheet in anger. At least, you could show it to your friends first. I want the numerous friends of yours that flank your sides as you swagger to and fro everyday to read, too. I would be glad if your besties, those ones that have invented complexions of their own with the myriad of chemicals in their wardrobe, would read, too.
Give it to your sister, she needs it as much as you do. As it stands now, she's you in the making. I hope you're cool. I will see you when we're older. I'm off to the other side of the country.
Manu.
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