An emo letter to a misogynist.

If you asked me if I loved you, I would say, “No. “ And if you came into Hard Times and our eyes locked, or if you saw me in the corner with my book, I would walk out without turning back, without whispering a hi or even waving. If your best friend asked me if I still had feelings for you, I would vehemently let the words stream out of my mouth, how I don't have a drop of respect for you, and can't believe your arrogance and how you treat people, and everything I said would be true. If my friends asked about you, I would say you hurt me over and over, and they would say you are a jerk, or even an ***hole, and I should never talk to you again, and I would agree.

But if you said you were sorry, with tears in your eyes, I would cry.

And if you sent me flowers, I would wonder.

And if you looked at me with eyes opened, I would hope for redemption, and I would hope we could call it new. I would hope He would call it new.

And if I had breakfast with a friend, and she asked if I was seeing someone, I might say, “No. No one I love loves me.” “....Who do you love?” And without thinking, between bites of blueberry pancake, I would say your name, easier than anything I said all morning.

She would laugh and say, “Is he your one true love?” But later I would wonder.

And if I dreamt about you, I would dream you were on the North Shore, and thinking of me, and I would wake up with a tear soaked pillow, and hoping it was true.

And if I wore my monkey pants I would think of you throwing pebbles on my window, and of your salt and pepper hair in my lap, Southside.

And if you went away and forgot me, the girl who never was much for you, I would still think of you.

And wonder why I do.