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My darling girl, Ellen Spears, had to go back to Virginia when I was forced to return to Texas. I never saw her after that.
This was sixteen months ago, almost. 30 July MMVII, the seventeenth birthday of another girl I liked. A girl who I almost swore to make my akora...when really it is Ellen who deserves that honor.
Ellen was seventeen when I met her; I was nineteen and still in high school, though I graduated fourth in my class. She asked for my e-mail address when I left Wheatstone Academy, but I did not ask for hers. I HATE life without her. Well, at least I have books, but I can never be complete without Ellen. She's mine--I know she is! She won't marry someone else, will she?
Now, granted, we only knew each other for five and a half days before we were forced to split forever. However, I knew the night before I last saw her that she was the one. Why? We saw the first act of Oscar Wilde's "The Ideal Husband" performed. Then she compared it to "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight," a story I had been waiting to read and did at my first opportunity after our separation.
It is possible that Ellen and I will be separated for 119 months. That's over nine years! Well, eight, since one is gone. But why must we separated like this?
The last moment I was with her, she wanted a hug, but being a guy I did not understand. So...yeah, that's how it goes. And my e-mail address was messed up. She was never able to send me a message.
Below is a letter I composed to her but cannot mail because I don't have her address:
This was sixteen months ago, almost. 30 July MMVII, the seventeenth birthday of another girl I liked. A girl who I almost swore to make my akora...when really it is Ellen who deserves that honor.
Ellen was seventeen when I met her; I was nineteen and still in high school, though I graduated fourth in my class. She asked for my e-mail address when I left Wheatstone Academy, but I did not ask for hers. I HATE life without her. Well, at least I have books, but I can never be complete without Ellen. She's mine--I know she is! She won't marry someone else, will she?
Now, granted, we only knew each other for five and a half days before we were forced to split forever. However, I knew the night before I last saw her that she was the one. Why? We saw the first act of Oscar Wilde's "The Ideal Husband" performed. Then she compared it to "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight," a story I had been waiting to read and did at my first opportunity after our separation.
It is possible that Ellen and I will be separated for 119 months. That's over nine years! Well, eight, since one is gone. But why must we separated like this?
The last moment I was with her, she wanted a hug, but being a guy I did not understand. So...yeah, that's how it goes. And my e-mail address was messed up. She was never able to send me a message.
Below is a letter I composed to her but cannot mail because I don't have her address:
Dear Ellen,
I wish I could see you one more time. I didn't even give you a proper adieu. You were the best girl I ever met; honestly, I mean that. If you read this, you'll scoff at the preceeding sentence. Of course, you're not shallow or anything, but I believe I really hurt you.
How was I supposed to know you wanted to hug me at the end? I'm a guy; we lack that sense, and I've never hugged anyone outside my family. And I'm terribly sorry about the e-mail address. My e-mail doesn't work unless I send someone else a message first, and I never asked for yours. Seriously, Ellen, I can barely imagine living the rest of my life without you. Almost all of my passwords across the Internet are either "EllenSpears2008" or "JustEllen2008." The year represents the time when you'll turn nineteen, which was how old I was when we met. My username on Wikipedia is "Ellen Spears." I'm crazy about you! I'm missing the first year of your adulthood as I'm writing this letter. How much longer before we see each other again? A decade? Four? I can't live forty years more, especially without you. Ellen, my dreams fall short if you're not around. Your red hair is so dazzling, and I just feel so good when I'm in your presence. I know bad times would still be in store for us, but at least we'd be together!
I dreamed of creating a bookstore after you, the "Just Ellen." It would be as famous as Barnes & Noble and Borders. But it may never be now. I'm losing my intellectual prowess; all that's left is my love of writing. But I'm going to have to write for you, to make sure it gets done. I still feel that my writing dream is going nowhere, but at least I'm attempting to do it. Still, what can I do without you? I feel impotent. I may fail, Ellen. But the only thing that truly terrifies me in that is that you'll think I'm not worthy of you. I'm not, but I wish I were. You're so fantastic, and if I had the temerity to do such a thing, I would ask you to marry me. But, it can never be.
From,
Abel Glen Pamuk
I wish I could see you one more time. I didn't even give you a proper adieu. You were the best girl I ever met; honestly, I mean that. If you read this, you'll scoff at the preceeding sentence. Of course, you're not shallow or anything, but I believe I really hurt you.
How was I supposed to know you wanted to hug me at the end? I'm a guy; we lack that sense, and I've never hugged anyone outside my family. And I'm terribly sorry about the e-mail address. My e-mail doesn't work unless I send someone else a message first, and I never asked for yours. Seriously, Ellen, I can barely imagine living the rest of my life without you. Almost all of my passwords across the Internet are either "EllenSpears2008" or "JustEllen2008." The year represents the time when you'll turn nineteen, which was how old I was when we met. My username on Wikipedia is "Ellen Spears." I'm crazy about you! I'm missing the first year of your adulthood as I'm writing this letter. How much longer before we see each other again? A decade? Four? I can't live forty years more, especially without you. Ellen, my dreams fall short if you're not around. Your red hair is so dazzling, and I just feel so good when I'm in your presence. I know bad times would still be in store for us, but at least we'd be together!
I dreamed of creating a bookstore after you, the "Just Ellen." It would be as famous as Barnes & Noble and Borders. But it may never be now. I'm losing my intellectual prowess; all that's left is my love of writing. But I'm going to have to write for you, to make sure it gets done. I still feel that my writing dream is going nowhere, but at least I'm attempting to do it. Still, what can I do without you? I feel impotent. I may fail, Ellen. But the only thing that truly terrifies me in that is that you'll think I'm not worthy of you. I'm not, but I wish I were. You're so fantastic, and if I had the temerity to do such a thing, I would ask you to marry me. But, it can never be.
From,
Abel Glen Pamuk
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