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Dear Mom and Dad,

I am a monster.  A filthy vagrant that shouldn't be allowed the luxury of life.  There must be something wrong with me.  I must be sick, or confused.  God must hate me.  I hate me.
Those were my thoughts one year ago.  Actually it will be one year and two months ago by the time you read this.  One year ago I was the bane of my existence.  The first sentence was my personal motto that I had adopted.  It's partly your fault.  If you hadn't let me go to Linda's party I would have never done it.
But you did and I did and it's done.  I'm not going to lie, there were drinks a bit stronger than Kool-Aide.  I'm not sure why I drank so much that night, maybe it's because we all did.  But after my fifth rum and coke I began to feel light-headed and nauseous as well.  So I got up from my perch in Linda's den and made my way to her back patio.
The cold air helped with the physical symptoms of my drunken stupor, but I was still obviously mentally affected.  I was staring at my breath crystallize in the air when she came out.  You know her now, but at the time neither of us did.  Samantha Rasil.  I just made a half-assed (excuse my language dad) wave and went back to zoning out.  She came and stood next to me, the following conversation is word for word.
"Hey, Jillian, right?"
"Yea…Look I'm sorry for not knowing your name."
"Samantha, but you can call me Sam."
"Well then you can call me Jill."
Not much, in fact to anyone else we would sound totally normal, if not boring.  But after that small exchange something happened that made me unable to forget that night.  I had begun to shiver, but didn't allow myself to go inside.  Sam took her sweatshirt, you know the dark green one with a yellow flower as the hood, and handed it to me.  I turned to thank her but never got the chance.
She kissed me.
I couldn't move, and ended up frozen while this stranger was "sucking face" with me.  Those few seconds had felt like hours.  Later Sam had told me she was completely hammered, which is the only reason she even approached me.  Dad you know that magazine you read as a kid, MAD?  Her cheeks had turned about as red as the cover boy's hair when she pulled away.  It must have been that fifth rum and coke that made me do it.
But I still did it, so the reason doesn't really matter now.  I kissed her back, and this time I initiated.  I had never in all my sixteen years come close to this feeling.  You know T.J., the boy I had dated for a few months.  This simply blew what we had out of the water.
Even in my tipsy state something in the back of my head said this was wrong, that I needed to stop.  So I did the only logical thing any freaked out and buzzed teenager would do.  I ran.  You know that night I came home drunk and crying?  Mom you had been so enraged you couldn't even talk, and dad.  You had the most ashamed expression to date, well I guess until you finish this letter.  Can't wait to see the face this makes.  Well that was the night I meet Sam.
I passed out on my bed and awoke the next morning.  At first I remained blissfully ignorant of what had happened the prior night.  Until I realized what I was wearing.  A dark green sweatshirt with a yellow flower as the hood.  I ran to the bathroom and threw up; it was just too much for my hung over state to handle.  I tried to forget the kiss, tried to brush it off as nothing.  I couldn't.  I couldn't forget anything from that night, I still can't.  Not to mention I had to give Sam her sweatshirt back.
It was Sunday and we had to go to church.  Which is just what I needed for "cleansing."  We left for mass and as it turns out the priest was doing confession after service that day.  His sermon being about, of course, sin.  I figured that what I did was on the top of the list when it came to unforgivable acts.
So I waited, and when no one was around I ducked into the confessional.  I started as usual, "Forgive me father, for I have sinned.  It had been fours years and two weeks since my last confession."  After that I had paused, too mortified to continue.  He waited patiently until I began again.  "I have had inappropriate interactions of the same sex, father."  I heard a sharp intake of breath from his half, and felt like throwing up right there.
"Child, do you feel confused by these actions?"  His question made me think.  I mean if I felt like it was no big deal then why would I attend confession?  Did I really like what happened that night?  This was a bombshell on my already demolished island. At that I ran out, I even heard the priest scream for me to wait.  But I just ran, and fast.
So fast, I ran until I got to the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak.  I was in a daze when I heard my name being shouted.  There she was, the catalyst of my entire life.  Sam.  She was waving to me, and smiling.  But she looked cold, after all I was wearing her only type of winter wear.  Her hair was, as I had just realized, a red bob.  Everything about her was quirky, from her tanned skin, thin lips, and hazel eyes.  I mean that is about as simple as I can describe someone like her, if I were to make the most tragic understatement of the century.
I stopped, and figured then would be the perfect time to giver her the sweatshirt back.  I certainly didn't want to bring my faux pas to the classroom.  She was beaming, as well as blushing by the time I got to her.  For some reason my stomach had begun to sway, but not in a way to make me vomit.  I know now why it was, and we'll get to that soon enough.  I handed her the hoodie, and turned to walk away.  Her hand shot out to my shoulder, causing me to flinch, and her hand to retract.  "Look I'm sorry for making you run yesterday.  But I will never be sorry for that kiss.  I get if you don't really play for my 'team,' if you know what I mean."
Her words stirred something in me, and well I guess I didn't entirely find the act repulsive.  She had turned to go and, please don't be mad with me guys, I stopped her.  She looked confused, and I tried my best to explain.  Mainly, after much stuttering involved, I told her that I was willing to try.  On the basis it was entirely secret, and that we get to know each other first.  After all would I secretly hook up with a perfect stranger that kissed me on a drunken evening?  You raised me better than that mom and dad.
For the next few months we familiarized ourselves with each other.  You two meet her, even though now I'm sure you would rather shoot her than shake her hand.  I learned that her mother had ditched her and her father, Efraim.  I also learned that they were Jewish, which I'm sure you could detect from her father's name.  Her favorite fruits were cherries and pears, and her favorite season was that interval between spring and summer.  That her favorite color was the flames that we would sit near on summer nights while just staring at the stars.  Her favorite game was Monopoly, which I am so positive that she cheats it's not even funny.  (Not that you two would find any of this funny).  That on some days she felt unbearably blue, that is until I showed up at her house after school.
We were mostly at her house, a single story five-roomed thing with peeling shingles of white and a leaky roof.  The reason being that I still didn't want you both in on my little "experiment," which is what I had convinced myself this whole thing was.  Her dad knew about her preferences and was as supportive as possible, and he knew about us before even I did.
After seven months Sam had told me something that caused my illusion that I was still straight to fade, rather abruptly.  We were playing hangman, the favored game of mine when it came to wordplay.  I had guessed the letters I, E, O, R, S, L, and U.  Forming the phrase "I LO_E  _OU."  I don't even know why my brain didn't put it together at that point; maybe it was subconsciously willing the words away.  I was hung, and she began to turn that shade of red that was the second, to her hair, of my favorite colors.  She wrote them in, the words, and I got up and left.
I was confused, and scared.  I didn't know if I felt the same.  I was still in denial about everything.  We hadn't even kissed that much and she still loved me.  I was a coward and she still loved me.  What am I now?  That's what I asked myself.  I looked into the sky for any type of answer, only to see that it was raining.  In my flight I hadn't even noticed, considering it was still sunny out as well.  I looked and saw something that was the riposte to my question.  A rainbow.
Seeing that measly half rainbow in an oxymoronic sky made me sink to the ground, and smile.  But I felt my cheeks, and they were wet from tears I didn't even know I had.  "I am gay."  Those words left my mouth, and with them the bricks I had looming on my shoulder were lifted and broken.  After saying these words I couldn't even believe I had been so stupid as not even recognize that I loved Sam.  That she was my world.  My favorite color is her hair for Christ's sake!
You two, well I hope you can understand that I truly do love her.  You both know I can't stand cherries, but I would eat them with her.  That I find being too close to a fire a bit hazardous, but I would do it with her anyway.  The best part about it was that when I was with her cherries weren't that bad, and the fire felt safe rather than harmful.  But as I sat there staring at my colorful piece of sanctuary I knew that if I didn't go back right then that I would lose her.  That I would never be able to look at cherries again without wanting to throw them into a fire pit.
I know you would disapprove mom and dad.   I know that you two would be so pissed that I went back.  But I did, and found her crying silent tears, so as to not worry Ephraim.  Climbing in through her window, noting that this would be an excellent way to meet up with her later, I made my way over to her.  I hugged Sam.  My Sam.  And whispered something that may make you stop reading right now.  "Me too."  She stopped breathing for a moment, I was afraid she might pass out.  Until she leaned in and kissed me, recreating our first night together.  It wasn't even that strong, but it was the best kiss I have ever had, period.
After that we became an actual couple, her dad even asked us when we were going to tell him.  I began to blush furiously while she just laughed and smacked his arm.  We still remained secret, obviously since this is the first time you two have even heard any of this, since I was still unsure.  I could tell it bothered her, and felt like a terrible girlfriend.  That is until I actually used the term girlfriend to refer to her, she smiled so hard I thought her cheeks would get stuck that way.
And now it has been a year, and I am finally ready to tell you.  Mom, Dad, I will not apologize.  I know now that I am not a monster, that I am Jillian A. Lerkson.  This letter is an anniversary gift for Sam, who I know will be thrilled, but not nearly as ecstatic as me.  I only hope that you can still love me, and the rainbow that gave me the resolve to love myself.

Love,

Your Little Silly Jilly

Description
Dear Mom and Dad,

I am a monster.  A filthy vagrant that shouldn't be allowed the luxury of life.  There must be something wrong with me.  I must be sick, or confused.  God must hate me.  I hate me.
Those were my thoughts one year ago.  Actually it will be one year and two months ago by the time you read this.  One year ago I was the bane of my existence.  The first sentence was my personal motto that I had adopted.  It's partly your fault.  If you hadn't let me go to Linda's party I would have never done it.
But you did and I did and it's done.  I'm not going to lie, there were drinks a bit stronger than Kool-Aide.  I'm not sure why I drank so much that night, maybe it's because we all did.  But after my fifth rum and coke I began to feel light-headed and nauseous as well.  So I got up from my perch in Linda's den and made my way to her back patio.
The cold air helped with the physical symptoms of my drunken stupor, but I was still obviously mentally affected.  I was staring at my breath crystallize in the air when she came out.  You know her now, but at the time neither of us did.  Samantha Rasil.  I just made a half-assed (excuse my language dad) wave and went back to zoning out.  She came and stood next to me, the following conversation is word for word.
"Hey, Jillian, right?"
"Yea…Look I'm sorry for not knowing your name."
"Samantha, but you can call me Sam."
"Well then you can call me Jill."
Not much, in fact to anyone else we would sound totally normal, if not boring.  But after that small exchange something happened that made me unable to forget that night.  I had begun to shiver, but didn't allow myself to go inside.  Sam took her sweatshirt, you know the dark green one with a yellow flower as the hood, and handed it to me.  I turned to thank her but never got the chance.
She kissed me.
I couldn't move, and ended up frozen while this stranger was "sucking face" with me.  Those few seconds had felt like hours.  Later Sam had told me she was completely hammered, which is the only reason she even approached me.  Dad you know that magazine you read as a kid, MAD?  Her cheeks had turned about as red as the cover boy's hair when she pulled away.  It must have been that fifth rum and coke that made me do it.
But I still did it, so the reason doesn't really matter now.  I kissed her back, and this time I initiated.  I had never in all my sixteen years come close to this feeling.  You know T.J., the boy I had dated for a few months.  This simply blew what we had out of the water.
Even in my tipsy state something in the back of my head said this was wrong, that I needed to stop.  So I did the only logical thing any freaked out and buzzed teenager would do.  I ran.  You know that night I came home drunk and crying?  Mom you had been so enraged you couldn't even talk, and dad.  You had the most ashamed expression to date, well I guess until you finish this letter.  Can't wait to see the face this makes.  Well that was the night I meet Sam.
I passed out on my bed and awoke the next morning.  At first I remained blissfully ignorant of what had happened the prior night.  Until I realized what I was wearing.  A dark green sweatshirt with a yellow flower as the hood.  I ran to the bathroom and threw up; it was just too much for my hung over state to handle.  I tried to forget the kiss, tried to brush it off as nothing.  I couldn't.  I couldn't forget anything from that night, I still can't.  Not to mention I had to give Sam her sweatshirt back.
It was Sunday and we had to go to church.  Which is just what I needed for "cleansing."  We left for mass and as it turns out the priest was doing confession after service that day.  His sermon being about, of course, sin.  I figured that what I did was on the top of the list when it came to unforgivable acts.
So I waited, and when no one was around I ducked into the confessional.  I started as usual, "Forgive me father, for I have sinned.  It had been fours years and two weeks since my last confession."  After that I had paused, too mortified to continue.  He waited patiently until I began again.  "I have had inappropriate interactions of the same sex, father."  I heard a sharp intake of breath from his half, and felt like throwing up right there.
"Child, do you feel confused by these actions?"  His question made me think.  I mean if I felt like it was no big deal then why would I attend confession?  Did I really like what happened that night?  This was a bombshell on my already demolished island. At that I ran out, I even heard the priest scream for me to wait.  But I just ran, and fast.
So fast, I ran until I got to the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak.  I was in a daze when I heard my name being shouted.  There she was, the catalyst of my entire life.  Sam.  She was waving to me, and smiling.  But she looked cold, after all I was wearing her only type of winter wear.  Her hair was, as I had just realized, a red bob.  Everything about her was quirky, from her tanned skin, thin lips, and hazel eyes.  I mean that is about as simple as I can describe someone like her, if I were to make the most tragic understatement of the century.
I stopped, and figured then would be the perfect time to giver her the sweatshirt back.  I certainly didn't want to bring my faux pas to the classroom.  She was beaming, as well as blushing by the time I got to her.  For some reason my stomach had begun to sway, but not in a way to make me vomit.  I know now why it was, and we'll get to that soon enough.  I handed her the hoodie, and turned to walk away.  Her hand shot out to my shoulder, causing me to flinch, and her hand to retract.  "Look I'm sorry for making you run yesterday.  But I will never be sorry for that kiss.  I get if you don't really play for my 'team,' if you know what I mean."
Her words stirred something in me, and well I guess I didn't entirely find the act repulsive.  She had turned to go and, please don't be mad with me guys, I stopped her.  She looked confused, and I tried my best to explain.  Mainly, after much stuttering involved, I told her that I was willing to try.  On the basis it was entirely secret, and that we get to know each other first.  After all would I secretly hook up with a perfect stranger that kissed me on a drunken evening?  You raised me better than that mom and dad.
For the next few months we familiarized ourselves with each other.  You two meet her, even though now I'm sure you would rather shoot her than shake her hand.  I learned that her mother had ditched her and her father, Efraim.  I also learned that they were Jewish, which I'm sure you could detect from her father's name.  Her favorite fruits were cherries and pears, and her favorite season was that interval between spring and summer.  That her favorite color was the flames that we would sit near on summer nights while just staring at the stars.  Her favorite game was Monopoly, which I am so positive that she cheats it's not even funny.  (Not that you two would find any of this funny).  That on some days she felt unbearably blue, that is until I showed up at her house after school.
We were mostly at her house, a single story five-roomed thing with peeling shingles of white and a leaky roof.  The reason being that I still didn't want you both in on my little "experiment," which is what I had convinced myself this whole thing was.  Her dad knew about her preferences and was as supportive as possible, and he knew about us before even I did.
After seven months Sam had told me something that caused my illusion that I was still straight to fade, rather abruptly.  We were playing hangman, the favored game of mine when it came to wordplay.  I had guessed the letters I, E, O, R, S, L, and U.  Forming the phrase "I LO_E  _OU."  I don't even know why my brain didn't put it together at that point; maybe it was subconsciously willing the words away.  I was hung, and she began to turn that shade of red that was the second, to her hair, of my favorite colors.  She wrote them in, the words, and I got up and left.
I was confused, and scared.  I didn't know if I felt the same.  I was still in denial about everything.  We hadn't even kissed that much and she still loved me.  I was a coward and she still loved me.  What am I now?  That's what I asked myself.  I looked into the sky for any type of answer, only to see that it was raining.  In my flight I hadn't even noticed, considering it was still sunny out as well.  I looked and saw something that was the riposte to my question.  A rainbow.
Seeing that measly half rainbow in an oxymoronic sky made me sink to the ground, and smile.  But I felt my cheeks, and they were wet from tears I didn't even know I had.  "I am gay."  Those words left my mouth, and with them the bricks I had looming on my shoulder were lifted and broken.  After saying these words I couldn't even believe I had been so stupid as not even recognize that I loved Sam.  That she was my world.  My favorite color is her hair for Christ's sake!
You two, well I hope you can understand that I truly do love her.  You both know I can't stand cherries, but I would eat them with her.  That I find being too close to a fire a bit hazardous, but I would do it with her anyway.  The best part about it was that when I was with her cherries weren't that bad, and the fire felt safe rather than harmful.  But as I sat there staring at my colorful piece of sanctuary I knew that if I didn't go back right then that I would lose her.  That I would never be able to look at cherries again without wanting to throw them into a fire pit.
I know you would disapprove mom and dad.   I know that you two would be so pissed that I went back.  But I did, and found her crying silent tears, so as to not worry Ephraim.  Climbing in through her window, noting that this would be an excellent way to meet up with her later, I made my way over to her.  I hugged Sam.  My Sam.  And whispered something that may make you stop reading right now.  "Me too."  She stopped breathing for a moment, I was afraid she might pass out.  Until she leaned in and kissed me, recreating our first night together.  It wasn't even that strong, but it was the best kiss I have ever had, period.
After that we became an actual couple, her dad even asked us when we were going to tell him.  I began to blush furiously while she just laughed and smacked his arm.  We still remained secret, obviously since this is the first time you two have even heard any of this, since I was still unsure.  I could tell it bothered her, and felt like a terrible girlfriend.  That is until I actually used the term girlfriend to refer to her, she smiled so hard I thought her cheeks would get stuck that way.
And now it has been a year, and I am finally ready to tell you.  Mom, Dad, I will not apologize.  I know now that I am not a monster, that I am Jillian A. Lerkson.  This letter is an anniversary gift for Sam, who I know will be thrilled, but not nearly as ecstatic as me.  I only hope that you can still love me, and the rainbow that gave me the resolve to love myself.

Love,

Your Little Silly Jilly