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A 14-year-old boy named Lawrence wrote this letter to another boy, also 14, a few days after he returned from a two-week stay at a summer camp.
Dear Bruce,
During our time at camp, I wanted to tell you something, but I was too afraid to say anything then. I am scared now, but feel I HAVE to write this to you.
You were the only boy who talked to me, and I was so lonely. I know I am pathetic, a chubby boy with no muscles. Remember how Jason teased me about my boobs. He said I needed a bra. How I hated that, even though it is probably true. I have boobs just as big as any girl in my school. Isn’t that awful?
I loved how you seemed to admire my love of poetry. It was strange that you would. I thought at first you were a dumb jock. You’re so strong and muscular and good looking. And smart, too. You were so nice to me.
I have written a poem dedicated to you, my dear Bruce. It follows at the end of this letter.
Remember the hiding place we found in the woods, under the big, old oak tree just outside of our camp area? I remember reading some poetry to you, stuff that I wrote. And you didn’t laugh. You said it sounded sweet and romantic. I think you’re sweet, too, and I know you wouldn’t tell any of your friends about us or laugh at me.
We’re only 14. Is that too young to fall in love, because I think I am in love with you. Not as a boy in love with another boy, but as a weak, lovestruck girl in love. I dream often of your arms about me, about your kisses on my lips and your hands playing with my breasts, my soft, girly breasts. I know it’s wrong to think this way, but I can’t help it.
Please don’t think this is silly or bad, but it’s my honest feelings.
Right now, as I write this, I think of myself as Jerilyn . . . or Jeri and I imagine you as my boyfriend.
Oh, isn’t this a silly letter, but I had to let you know my feelings. If you think I’m being foolish and you don’t want anything to do with me, you don’t have to write back. But, how badly I want to hear from you. You’re always --- ALWAYS --- in my thoughts.
Hugs and Kisses, Jeri
Ode to a camp mate
What is love and can it be real?
Oh, my darling, it is how deeply I feel,
Your warm words were my dearest need
To help me realize I was worthy, indeed.
Welcome my soft, weak self to your side
So that your strong arms can be my guide!
Love me, love me as I love you,
I plead for your welcome, oh yes, I do.
NOTE to readers: If you would like to be Bruce and reply to this letter, please do. Wouldn’t it be fun to have a two-way story, written in the form of love letters? What do you think? If you do want to respond to me as Bruce, please keep it PG-13. After all Jeri is a naïve, sweet girl, isn’t she?
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Comments
Im so happy
To see you're still writing after so long. Please develop this into a full story :)
Life interfers
Thank you Deborah for the welcome back. The death of my wife of 63 years in 2017, the sale of our old house, challenges with children and health all made writing difficult. Hope to continue now in my 90s. I plan to continue this story in the form of letters between lovers.
First loves & the Auguries of Innocence
A very sweet story with an endearing character. And suddenly I found myself writing Bruce's reply. I knocked it out in one draft, haven't even looked at what I wrote before hitting SAVE because that's how most people write letters, they don't compose them like literature they just talk on paper. It's weird writing in the persona of a male but it's the letter I would want to get if I was Jeri.
I didn't post it as a story because I have no idea if it's good or if it's crap at this point, but I suppose I could repost it as a real story if you want. If not that's fine too. (And don't mind the weird fake quote at the end, that's not part of Bruce's letter that's part of this being posted as a comment and I change those every week. Next week it'll be a picture of a cat or something...
hugs, Veronica
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Dear Jeri,
When the mail came today I was confused at first. When my mom brought it to me she said I'd got a letter from some girl, i mean with the Hello Kitty envelope and the writing you addressed it with being so femanin. When she handed it to me she tease me about having a girlfriend. But as soon as I saw I knew it was from you, or maybe I was just hoping. I quick made up a story about meeting some girls from the girl's camp across the lake, and a girl named Jeri was one of them.
Becoz Mom wouldn't understand you being from the same camp as me since it's a boy's camp and my dad REALLY wouldn't understand! I told you about how it was him who was always pushing me to excede in football, which I do like but somehow what he wants football to be for me takes all the fun out of it. I mean it's just a game, rigth?
So then I read your letter. I don't think what you confessed about you was to much of a surprise to me, but it did come as a relief. Becoz all those nights we stayed up talking and when I was staring up your bunk above me I was thinking about you, things I never thought and feelings I never had a boy about a boy before. Thinking uh-oh I guess i'm GAY, Dad's really gonna love that! And thinking about you a lot ever since I got home too. But if your a girl, a transgender or whatever it makes a lot more sense.
Cuz for these few days I was thinking I might be gay I went looking at some gay porn on line, guys that were supposed to be hot to see if I liked them and they didn't do anything for me. I sure don't want to kiss any of them, the way I was thinking about kissing that cute mouth of yours, feelings I've had for girls before, and had a kind of girlfriend for a few months, Julie was nice and she wrote poetry too, and kind of on the chubby side but in a cute way like you are; but then her family moved away with her just before summer, wich she warned me would happen. From the first day of camp you reminded me of her, your smile, which confused me but it makes sense now, and that I thought you were pretty.
In your letter you call yourself soft and weak. I think your softness was one of the things I liked about you. I get it hammered into me that boys aren't suppose to be soft, but having to pretend your hard all the time like some of my guy friends seems stupid, and not really strong at all but just fake. Not sure what I mean but it's how I feel hanging around them sometimes. I guess I liked how I could just be ME when I was with you. I'm not a girl and I dont want to be a girl, but I like girls, and the way some guys talk about them it doesn't sound like they like them much, or theyre afraid to admit it if they do; like just loving them or showing girls respect is a sign of weakness; which is just messed up. A lot of what people do doesn't make sense to me, but being around you for that week DID feel like it made sense. It was comfortble, and it was fun and just felt good.
Is that love? Is thinking about you all the time like I do love? I think it probably is.
You call yourself soft, and you are, but I don't think its right you call yourself weak. I think you have a different kind of strength. You wrote to me and told me everything, how you feel, who you are; It take guts to be so straight up honest and vulnrable that you write to a dumb jock like me and tell me you love him. It made me respect you even more, the fantastic person you are. The fantastic GIRL.
That's all I can think of to say right now, I want to get this in the mail because if I told someone I loved her I'd want to know how she took and be worried about how she was gonna react. Laugh in my face or call me a creep, everyones afraid like that when it comes to love but know I would never want to hurt or make you feel bad. I don't know if we can do more than write, like you say we're kids and can't drive yet and I'm clear in the next county but your letter will always be special to me and I hope we will keep writing. Because we won't always only be 14 and someday who knows?
Thinking of you lots, with this big dumb smile on my face so I'll be brave like you and just say it-
I LOVE YOU, Bruce
P.S= dont think I didnt notice your "soft girly breasts" when you came out of the shower with that towel around you like that. They're pretty like you.
What borders on pure insanity?
Canada and Mexico.
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