To the Girl at Target With the Shitty Look

“Black and white shot of attractive young woman sucking lollipop in street” by Noah Baslé on Unsplash

Hi, I’m Zach.

I know you don’t know me; I figure the best way to fix that is to introduce myself. I’m Zach. I’m 27, so I guess I’m about a decade and change older than you. I’m guessing that you’re somewhere between 14 and 16, but you might be older. I’m shit at guessing ages.

I’ve worked quite a few jobs in my time, and wear quite a few hats still, but my dream job is to write novels for young adults. People about your age. Still haven’t found much success there, but someday, I will.

That’s why I’m writing you this letter — I like using my fiction (and, sometimes, creative nonfiction) to speak to people around your age. I remember how shitty and difficult it was at that age, without having a road map or anyone to guide me through. And while there are some things that us writers can’t tell you, a sort of Temporal Prime Directive of experiences that cannot be communicated through words alone, we do try our best.

I realize that I don’t know you, either. I’m extrapolating the few moments we spent together tonight, trying to imagine your thoughts and feelings. I could be completely wrong. If I am, and you somehow happen to be reading this, I apologize.

However, I don’t think I’m wrong.