Susan Kwon

I have a box in my closet. It contains seven letters. Fourteen pages. Full of hate, despair, and frustration. I wish someone would find them, read them, and understand, but not tell me. I want someone to hear what I feel, to see it on the page. Please, someone, just find the box…

I said I didn’t want you to do anything, but I was thinking that maybe this time, you would.
Maybe, this time, you would see past the objections and the refusals, and just do it anyway, and surprise me.

My mom has hit me before.. But, I made her do it.. I pushed and pushed. I just wanted her to do it so I could have something on her.. So I could make her feel bad.. Like she always makes me feel.. I’ve never used this as blackmail though.. Not yet.

Dear You Know Who You Are,
I hate you. You’re never there for me. You always promise you will be, but you’re not. I can’t talk to you about anything.
You were supposed to visit for my birthday, but you couldn’t be bothered.
You’re the reason that you and mum broke up.
You go off with your stupid girlfriends and you come back and call me when it suits you.
And now what, you can call me a slut? As a joke?
I’m. Your. Daughter.
Fuck you,
Me

I pretend I’m together but the truth is I feel lost, alone, scared, insecure, and suspicious that so does everyone else.

I pretend to myself that i’m naturally pretty, but today I went to school with a lot of makeup, foundation, heavy black eyeshadow and most people said I looked pretty. I hate that I need makeup for people to like me

I pretend I’m excited that everything is going so well, but the truth is that I’m going to fuck it up. Because I mess everything up. Anything good that has ever happened to me goes sour. Everyone leaves. And all I’m left with is the empty shell of a wish. The more good things that happen to me, the more nervous I become.

When you were shot I felt responsible for not protecting you.

Work 9-5, go pick the baby up from day care, come home to a cookie cutter house with the perfect yard a business man husband just mowed, have dinner by 7pm, watch television for an hour, put the baby to bed, have sex with said husband only to have him get off after 5 minutes and then wonder why I bother and wonder why I’m not good enough because I know he watches porn anyway, then go to sleep just to wake up and do it all over again. You know what I say to that? HELL no. Fuck the American dream, I don’t want it. Sorry to disappoint, Dad.

I wait for you 2hrs+ everyweek at the station, just in case the bus runs late, or you run early…… just so that I can pretend it’s a coincidence and see you for 15 minutes.

When you betrayed my trust I never thought it would be the key to finding myself.

I pretend not to care that you got married and moved to Japan, but the truth is, I’m so jealous. Because you got away from this. Because you got away from me, and I can’t do that myself.

Work 9-5, go pick the baby up from day care, come home to a cookie cutter house with the perfect yard a business man husband just mowed, have dinner by 7pm, watch television for an hour, put the baby to bed, have sex with said husband only to have him get off after 5 minutes and then wonder why I bother and wonder why I’m not good enough because I know he watches porn anyway, then go to sleep just to wake up and do it all over again.
You know what I say to that? HELL no. Fuck the American dream, I don’t want it. Sorry to disappoint, Dad.

I pretend I’m together but the truth is I feel lost, alone, scared, insecure, and suspicious that so does everyone else.

you lead me on. you lead every girl on. All those nights, staying up late texting you, imagining that maybe one day you would finally feel the same way about me. I was wrong. You never text me anymore, I guess I took for granted all those times when i would look at my phone and it’d be you. I wish that just this once, everything wouldn’t get screwed up. I wish that everything would fall perfectly, that i could have what all my friends have. An un-awkward relationship with my bestfriend. YOU. When I look up in class and our eyes meet, I get butterflies (: It gives me hope, that maybe, just maybe you’ll fall in love with me one day. So please, if you’re reading this, text me and tell me how you truly feel, not some “idk” or “nm”.

I pretend i’m losing weight for my health but the truth is i’m losing weight so i can make my ex want me again.

Dear Parents,
Some days I don’t feel alive.  Some days I ask myself why do I even put up with this crap?  Why don’t I just run?  Yeah, I know running doesn’t solve anything, but its better then feeling worthless.
I screwed up.  I’m a liar.  No one understands me.  No one knows what I go through, no one.  The person people are seeing is not me; it’s who I want to be.  I’m really dead inside this body.  All my so called friends are not friends at all.  Friends are supposed to see past your wall you put up and help you, aren’t they always suppose to be there? Well no one’s there for me.  No one asks how my day was, no one knows that just five minutes ago I ripped my heart out and was crying.
Do you know why I never go to bed? Because I can’t sleep, everyone needs me to help solve their problems but do they ever try and help me with my problems? No.  I’m grounded, no one knows.  I’m broken, no one knows.  No one understands the pain I grow through sometimes.
Yeah, at school I’m the happy one right?  At home I’m not.  Why do you think I wasn’t excited school was ending? I don’t want to go home.  Did you know I’m failing classes? It’s because I just can’t mentally do it, I have problems.  My parents think I’m lazy and a procrastinator, well I think there really is something wrong with me.  Something’s bugging me and I don’t know what. Maybe it’s because inside I’m dying, broken, and misunderstood.  I need help.  But no one can see it.
Help.  When someone screams it inside, why can no one go looking for it and find it?  I need you.
Love, your daughter

I pretend to myself that i’m naturally pretty, but today I went to school with a lot of makeup, foundation, heavy black eyeshadow etc and most people said I looked pretty. I hate that I need makeup for people to like me

I pretend that I’m the shit.  But the truth is.. I feel like plain old shit.

I work with young folks everyday–dramatic, hopeful, insecure, eager, impressionable, resilient, their fear of failure, but willingness to take risks–I know they’re not always focused in class, and not that I want to know what’s really going on in their heads, but looking back, I’m reminded that I don’t miss those years. But oh, teenage love…you know the kind… the blissful, sentimental, angst-filled, lustful, irrational, over-romanticized feelings of teenage love. I’m glad I don’t have to repeat you. Here are some submissions:

I said you’re arrogant, cocky, and obnoxious, but I was screaming in my head, “YOU’RE PERFECT, I LOVE YOU!”

I know you like her. Everyone knows. You don’t see the bad side in her though, she uses people. By the way, I liked you first…

You’re so fucking full of brilliance. I seriously wish that there were more guys like you, so I wouldn’t have to worry about losing you so much.

You spent two years of your life chasing after me, telling me you loved me and I ignored you. I was getting sick of you following me around like a puppy.  A couple of days ago you told me you were over me and I felt physically sick and distraught.  What have I done to myself?

I know I blew it. I should have told you I think I’m in love with you. I wish I could have last year back so that I could do things over again and tell you how I REALLY feel. Not mince words, not downplay things, not hope you read between the lines. And for a long time to come, so many things will make me think of you, regret what I did and didn’t do, and I’ll hope that I’ll get another chance.

I remember you holding that chair over my head. I look at the bruises you give me and it kills me. I walk down that alleyway just because I know it will hurt me. The worst thing is that nobody knows. I love you too much to stop this.

I constantly fear that there will be a shooting at my school. Just the thought of guns and grenades will get my mind racing with fear. I feel so vulnerable, I get anxious every time I step out of my house.

I said, I’m getting a double major in Spanish and Physical Therapy.
I meant, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with the rest of my life.

My grandmother was a wonderful woman. She always listened and had a very forgiving heart. I treated her like shit. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.

I first started cutting because I felt like I wasn’t good enough for anyone, I cut everytime I fought with my parents. I punished myself for not being a better daughter.

I pretend I’m a terrible actress, but the truth is I act everyday. No one ever sees what I’m really thinking or feeling. My lines may have come across as stilted or emotionless in plays during high school, but I’m proud to say I haven’t messed up any of my lines in real life. You’ll never know who I am.

I have had panic attacks since my great-grandmother died of cancer when I was 7. She lasted a little over a month from the time she found out. I didn’t know what was wrong. 13 years later, I still shake when I realize that no matter what I do, no matter what kind of person I am or what decisions I make, that death will come for me. I used to believe in Catholicism. Now I don’t believe in anything. I just hope –against all reason– that there will be something on the other side.

Dear Sweetheart,
You should know that even though I look sweet and innocent on the outside, I’m a heartless, selfish bitch at the core. I’m afraid of commitment. I’ve hurt a lot of guys, mostly unintentionally. And without a doubt, I will hurt you. I’ll ignore your texts and calls because I won’t be in a mood to talk with you. I’ll lie, but you’ll never know. I’ll feel like I’m suffocating, and I’ll try to escape. All I can say is that it’s the way I am. I just want you to know what you’re in for.

3 months after the exhibition of Silent Negotiations, submissions are still trickling into www.submitsecret.com
This calls for yet another experiment very soon.

Three months ago, my best friend was run over by a car, but survived. She is now confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. I saw the car coming, but didn’t tell her to wait… Ever since that day, I’ve tried to get myself run over, but it hasn’t worked yet.

Dear Rob,
You always thought you were chatting with a nice girl from California, but instead Ellen and I were just joking around, pretending we were this ‘Betty’. It got all messy and now you are left with a broken heart and too many questions. I am deeply sorry.

This is a bit of a secret, maybe more of a profession of something that no-one has ever had the right wording to ask: I have no secrets that are all my own. I’ve told every last one to someone or other, and I regret it. Yeah, I love the feeling of sharing something really “juicy,” but I don’t get to have anything of my own. I want something of my own.

I pretend: (really well) that I’m an extrovert, but the truth is: if I could live in a cave with nothing but internet, food, and a few blankets, I wouldn’t think twice. I would be there.

I tell my parents that I hate it, but I really love swimming. I’m fat, and I hate the feeling of wearing a covering swimsuit, but am too self conscious to swim in a two piece. I can’t wait to get my own house with a pool, so I can just go nude.

I said I was with other people, but I was thinking that I’m just really sick of being your designated driver, having you and all of your dumb friends throw up out my window, and I’m sick of having to be responsible for you all the time; I can’t bear that burden anymore.