may fourteenth, 2021.

dear me, i guess. hey, uh, me. hope you're - we're? you're? i hope you're(?) doing swell if you're still alive, that is. kinda think i won't make it past 18 so. y'know. happy 18th birthday too, i guess. how's it feel being an adult? probably awful haha. at least we can finally move out, huh? are you still in contact with megan? y'know, the girl we're kind of in love with that lives states away that probably doesn't feel the same. (yippie.) anywho, you better still be. she's wonderful and cute and all that lovesick ********. uhh, i guess i should say something about how i feel like **** and that i hope it gets better, or that i'm sorry or something. i don't really feel like spewing all that sappy ******** though, we've been over it too many times, haven't we? i bet you're just as sick of it as i am. i just want you to know, that. please stop mistaking loneliness as independence. because yes, we like to be alone. but lately, i've been lonely. truly, lonely. and it hurts. so please, for my own ******* sake - talk to someone for a change. *******, let someone in for real. stop wallowing in your own god**** self-pity and actually do something about it because nobody else is gonna do that besides you. YOU have to take that step. nobody else can do that for you. maybe if you're still alive by the time you get this letter, i will have learned to love you. or maybe our pain caught up to us. but if you somehow are reading this, put in the effort. romanticize your life. make it count. learn to trust others again and learn some proper self-care for once. find someone to love again. go on walks and get how many animals you'd like. binge watch marvel movies and make ****** art pieces and wear those ugly clothes we always thought were beautiful. make **** food and bake all the cakes you want. get high and drunk and make mac-n-cheese at 2 AM while dancing in the kitchen to **** music with the love of your life. and most importantly, love the **** out of yourself, too. romanticize the hell out of your life, all of it, just because you can. because i swear to god, i'll be so upset if we haven't even tried to live. i know. it's hard. but please, you gotta try. for me, douchebag. - bucky. (p.s. are we still in love with fictional characters? if so, get over them! sam wilson will, sadly, never be real.)