26/27

So I accidentally missed posting on day 26. I have a good excuse. You see, I had to watch Titanic, again. What a classic.

"A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets."

♥

Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to

Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day

Day 26. Dear You.

Pinky promises are legit. I hope you realize that. I'm keeping this promise no matter what the cost, so don't be mad if you think I'm being drastic. I'll do what it takes to make sure I don't break this promise. Jus sayin.

With love,

Simply Jane

source.

Day 27. Dear Katie MacDonald.

So, I suppose I knew you for two days, but only a couple hours each of these days so I am choosing you regardless. I sat by you on my first day of Creative Writing down at BYU. You reminded me somewhat of myself, quietly sitting there in your desk, trying not to be noticed. You had a worn out notebook, that seemed to match the notebook I had been carrying around for the past year and a half. Your shoes were adorable, and I figured we could be friends.  Not because your shoes were adorable, but because we already had something in common. We both were in Creative Writing. The class was filled with the most unique of students. Not many people voluntarily take a Creative Writing course. You had dark hair, and dark eyes, just like myself. We walked away from class together, just maintaining small talk. You were a sophomore, and unlike so many other people I had met, you didn't care that I was a freshman.

The next week, you sat down next to me. We swapped our first assignments. You loved my story, and I loved yours. You loved the way I described impossible thoughts and my monster metaphor, and I loved all of the exquisite words you used. They made me grin, even though it was such an awful day. We could have been the best of friends I think. 

I'm afraid that was the last I saw you, because that was the day I stopped being able to swallow. The next week of my life down at school was filled with visits to the emergency room, returning books, packing, cancelling housing contracts, an endoscopy, and the dreaded intravenous therapy. I hate needles.

If you are wondering where I went, I came home. I wish I could have got to know you better. I liked the way you wrote your stories. Perhaps we will run into each other again.

With love,

Simply Jane