Dear The Boy Next Door,

I've decided to write you endless letters of my life, and well everything else. No, there will probably never ever be chance you read this or any of the future letters I send you, but I will keep these to treasure or something.

I don't feel as if I'm like everyone else. No, not like I'm some weirdo, just more observant. Ha, I guess I feel like Jughead Jones from Riverdale.

Well, anyways about my day. I saw you today. You were alone smoking away years of life with a cigarette in your mouth. I sat with you that day, and you asked if I wanted to smoke with you. I told you no, and you said okay. We had conversations, about the people in the school and society. I realized how observant you were, and how similar we actually were. I wanted to talk to you more, to know more about you. I asked you why you smoke and when you would stop, or if you ever planned on stopping. You told me, "The day a cliché story of a Good Girl making a Bad Boy good comes true-I'll never light one again."

I guess that really got me thinking in a way, cliché stories barley ever come true in real life. That's all for now, bye.

Love, Me