dear Gabrielle,

I know it's not the best idea to write a letter at two thirty in the morning, but I don't have much else to do.  You've never really been one for convention, anyway.  I'd like to talk sometime, just to catch up, but for now I give you this.  I'll keep it short.

It's been a really odd few weeks.  I finished the semester last Thursday, and I worked my last day the Friday before.  Most of my friends still have finals up till tomorrow, so I've just been chilling and looking for jobs, and hanging out with whoever isn't studying (if anyone).  There are a lot of friends I've had to already say goodbye to, and even more that I'll say it to in the following days.  When I think about this, it makes me wonder what I could be doing right now if I could return to Brazoria County.  I wouldn't be up late in my room on my computer writing a letter to a girl who mutually neglects me.  We'd probably be talking at Dunbar right now, waiting for the cops to come send us home.  I feel as though I would have more companions there than I do here, but maybe that's a "grass is always greener" situation.  My friends here are great, but everyone always has something to do.  I'm hoping this summer will change that, although I will have a smaller roster of friends than during the school year.

So yeah, it's been weird not having school or work.  I'm just kind of coasting, and it feels nice.

I know you gave your camera to your sister, but I really want you to continue in photography.  You're going to regret not sticking with it one day.  I was going to ask if you'd seen my photography lately, but I think I'd rather know if you've taken anything recently.  Have you?  I would sure like to see.  And how about drawings, paintings, anything art-related?  Poetry, short stories, novellas?  You've gotta give me something, here.  I know you're a big actor and all now, but that doesn't mean you have to stop doing anything else you're good at.

I let my roommate borrow "No One Belongs Here More Than You," and he gave it back to me the other day (although he didn't ever read it).  I'm looking forward to re-reading that this summer.  I'm going to think of you the entire time, too.  Promise.

Of course, from Ms. July:

"I laughed and said, 'Life is easy.' What I meant was, 'Life is easy with you here, and when you leave, it will be hard again.'"

sincerely,

vm