bubblegum letters

So I'm searching my storage closet for some old photographs of skylines, landscapes and abandoned buildings when I come across the old Reebok shoebox. The old Reebok shoebox filled with "love" letters from high school.
A few letters from my first girlfriend, Melanie. A few letters from Rachelle and several letters from Holly. These girls are now married, probably have children. But I'm still the awkward teenage boy in a man's 27 year old body.
As I read the letter I wasn't even sure to whom they were addressed. Did another girl really feel that way about me? Did they really enjoy my presence or was it the attention? I guess that's what love is - being the apple of another's eye.
As I read Holly's letters I was surprised to see the assuring phrase "You're not a loser!" repeated over and over from letter to letter. I guess this self-loathing thing isn't a new phenomenon.
I couldn't stop reading their words (written in the atypical high school girl bubblegum handwriting) even though it was depressing the hell out of me. Depressing because I felt like I was in some kind of fucked up time machine/out of body reality. I could smell their bubblegum and shampoo. I could see their maturing flesh. I could hear the sound of lockers closing and idle chatter but I was experiencing these things in the very body that sits here typing these words. Everything was different but I was the same.
God, Rachelle where are you? I could still faintly smell her perfume on those letters.
"It wasn't your fault, mc. These things just happen. You were my first love and I'll never forget you!" she wrote.
I wonder if my ghost ever floats into her mind. I wonder how she feels about me today. Surely there's some memory, some incident she remembers when we both occupied space and time simultaneously.
"I'm still out here, Rachelle. I still think of you from time to time. Sipping on this whiskey and smoking these cigarettes I can sometimes see your face and hear your voice so clear in my mind. Did you end up marrying, oh, what's his name, Allen? How are the kids? What are their names? Track me down sometime. I don't know what the hell we would talk about but I bet it would be nice. I know I'd still be able to find that fire in your eyes that sent my heart screaming out of my chest. Oh, what's that? You've gotta go? Oh, okay. Well, maybe sometime we can - hello? Hello?"
She's gone.
They're all gone.
I'm still here.

mc