Normally I do not let men get to me. They come, they go, sometimes I think of them from time to time, others drop off the face of the earth. Why, then, is it so hard to will myself to forget? He told me he wanted me to write him letters and I silently swore I would do just that, not realizing how difficult it would prove to obtain his address. J will have it, he said. Ask J for it. But he does not have it. I have taken it upon myself to find out for myself instead of waiting for other people to know. I asked around a bit, asked what I needed to know in order to write someone in the army. My search turned up relatively fruitless, and I reached my breaking point when one person called me "sketchy" for trying to find out the boy's address. To that I say fuck him. Fuck him because he hasno idea about me and him, he doesn't know anything, he wasn't there for any of what we had. I got so mad that I took a shower because that was the only thing I could think to do at the time. I don't know why his comment angered me so much, maybe because he doesn't know shit about who I am trying to reach and why it means so much for me to get into contact with him. It made me feel like a dorky little infatuated teenager who sends pubic hair and sweat samples to a celebrity. Then I thought about it, and maybe God is telling me something, telling me that I should just give up and forget about him and move on with my life and banish the tiny fantasies I harbored about receiving a letter from him and knowing it came from some mysterious place belonging to the army. I'm not asking for us to get married, I just care deeply for him and want to remain a part of his life, even if it just a small part, even if we are only friends, I just want to be something.