Trashed love letter (you asked, so brace yourself for the cringe...i’m gonna say this was written a very long time ago even though that’s probably a lie, but i promise i’m no longer this cringe and hey, it’s art now):

Dearest [name redacted],

I'm not in love with you. I hate your name and you're a seppo. Politically, we diverge (you're a “left-leaning libertarian” and I'm a commie). Your friends are assholes—except for that one roommate of yours who showed up on your Twitch stream once and made fun of me—are they single? Anyway, you live in Connecticut! That's far and there's nothing there (besides you...ew, forget I said that). I wish I didn't think of you when my mind should drift to someone else. And that dream I had, the psychological torture inspired by The Good Place involving your faked death, that was kinda forked up (fork you, brain). You want to be a corporate lawyer because you want to be rich and retire young, which I think is stupid because you hate law school. Yet, our long-term goals are somehow the same... If our pact were to come true and we, at 30 (and still single), moved to Germany and adopted a dog, I wonder if our differences would even matter anymore.

With love (and hesitation to admit it),

[name redacted]

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Sophie Dufresne studies psychology and creative writing at Concordia University. They developed a passion for poetry after reading "Hope" by Emily Dickinson in sixth grade. They are the Community Editor at The Link Newspaper but secretly enjoy writing prose and drama more than writing articles. They have been published by Milk Carton Press, Oddball Magazine, Brain Mill Press, _voidspace, and JAKE, among other publications. You can find them on twitter @i_m_sope.