My Dear John,

                The day is Wednesday September 6th 2006.  I followed you entering the school today; a melancholy look and all glances faced the floor.  It seemed as if you could not stand to be there at all.  The memories of being cut from the soccer team still burned in your mind and as hard as you told yourself to like your surroundings, you could not help to keep yourself from feeling down.  Some have told me that this was entirely your fault and that you should have learned to adapt to your surroundings and talk to new people.  But how can one say that?  Really, have they spent a day in your shoes?  Have they seen what you have seen?  When I told my colleagues about your thoughts of loneliness, they told me yet again that you should have learned to get over yourself.  Preposterous and hog wash!  I saw your thoughts.  I saw your mind being consumed with the death of a life so loved.  Nothing good you can see, nothing on the horizon, nothing but black and bleakness.  You imagined yourself rotting, decaying, and already dead yet no one could see you.  I often wondered; was it just a bad day, or the stage to what you would face?  7th period was most depressing my Dear John; alone in the back corner of a chorus room, on the brink of insanity.  The clock ticked by you, and the talked tortured your very existence and let you know how pathetic you were and completely wretched you were and useful to the rest of the world.  Your world scorched and decimated; the only hope was to wait for tomorrow, or ask yourself if this was in fact a nightmare, where you could fall asleep and you could go back to your friends.  But I’m afraid you are too intelligent for that, and know that you are seeing this as a curse.  Really, I had hoped things would have been better, and all your feelings of this place would dissipate and you could be happy here.  Please, I hope your next week is better, and you will adjust like people are supposed to be.  I’ll try and keep you in honest light, showing your faults as well as your good points though it is shadowed by your attitude now, and no doubt this can be used against you whenever you try and help someone out.  People love to exclaim, “You can’t tell me to be happy, because you felt horrible in your life and had a hard time getting over it.”  I suppose one could tell them that it took you so long because you had no help to get out of such a pit, and one who has come out always knows the best way for another to free them.