I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Summer Marie Wireman, as you probably saw by looking at the return address of this letter. I’m 13 years old, and though you would never believe me if you saw me before reading this letter, which you did. I hope this doesn’t strike you as odd, or even creepy. But there are two reasons why I wrote this. One, because I couldn’t stand just writing stupid little letters on tumblr without being able to sum up everything I want to say; and Two, because I wanted to get this off my chest.
To start, I would like to say that you are the reason I am here, writing this letter to you, which will probably never be sent to you, or rather given, because I’m too much of a pussy to both give it to you and to say everything I want to say. But you know what? Fuck it, I’m giving this to you and there is nothing I can do about it. You are the reason I am here, writing this letter, because you and your lyrics and your band saved my life. And I know it sounds cliché, as there are probably many people who send you these kinds of things all the time, but I’m being as sincere as possible.
When I was 10, I had moved from Ohio back to Pennsylvania and I lived in a town called Schuylkill Haven. Oh God, Schuylkill Haven. Well, to sum it up without going into every little detail: about halfway through the first time I was there (in 5th grade, last two “semesters”), someone had started a rumour that I had been raped, and was having the child(meaning, as you probably know, that I was pregnant). This was utterly untrue because I knew no one in the town and I never went out anywhere.
Anyway, the rumour spread so fast, by the time it had gotten back to me, I was the laughing stock of the entire school. I was so fed up with everything I decided to skip and sleep all day. This seems irrelevant, because I hadn’t known who you were then but I’m getting to that. Anyway, the first time I had cut, I was caught (lucky me), and I was sent to the emergency room first, for losing so much blood, and then to 6P (Pottsville’s adolescent psychiatric unit), where I stayed for 6 days. This was right after my 11th birthday, and when I got out, they gave me this pill… I think it was Abilify? And it wasn’t meant for people under the age of 18. Anyway, it made me sleep all the time (I took it at night and it didn’t kick in until morning so I’d fall asleep in class). Soon, I stopped going to school altoether, and every morning I’d either fight with my mom to the point where we would have physical scars, or I’d get ready and stay upstairs and fall back asleep. And the rumours got worse, as i hadn’t been in school for a while and all of the kids thought I really was pregnant and that’s why I had gotten pulled out (but I was only 106 pounds and 5’6. wayyy skinny…I actually had anorexia, as afterward I lost at least 10 more pounds).
After about a few months into the new school year I went into 6P again for cutting. Again. And they had given me another pill. Wellbutrin XL, a pill which made me into a fucking zombie, and when taken in high doses, could be incredibly fatal. I would also do whatever anyone wanted me to do, I would black out, and it was horrible.
During this time, had met someone named Alyssa. Alyssa Hoffman. And she had made me my first AIM account. She added a bunch of people she said I would like talking to, and left me to do my own thing. One of the people was a boy named Brandon Bashore. We started talking, and I learned he lived two streets over. Only two! We decided to meet as during the time we had talked, we had video chatted and talked to each other on the phone. At this point, I had decided to try and end my life once again, but I didn’t cut. Instead, I took, instead of one, about 9 or 10 Welbutrin XL’s, which, as I said before, is a pill that when given in high doses can be proven fatal.
So, I walked over, drowsy as all fuck, and Brandon and I cuddled for a bit, and watched a scary movie…Mom said it was okay for me to stay the night, since we were like brother and sister, and so I brought some stuff over, and we were all warm and cute and cuddly, when I feel something super warm touch my stomach. I was so tired I didn’t think of it, and next thing you know I was passed out on his couch. He had moved me so I was laying on my back, and when I looked over, he was washing his hands in the kitchen, which you could see from the view I was looking. My first thought, “What the hell?”. That’s when I realized that my pants were undone. They’re a pair of pants that don’t fit me, so I leave them unbutton with a belt over top of it, and the belt was undone and my pants were all the way to the top of my knee.
That’s when it kicked in. He came back over and held me down, making me promise I would never tell anyone. I promised, and he told me everything that had happened: (this is extremely NSFW… and in full detail about what he said)
“Well, you know how teenage boys are, us horny little things…you said it was okay, i think, so I undid your pants and stuff when you were asleep..and felt around a bit down there.” by then I was crying, although he couldnt see. “And it felt really good…you were really wet, you know, for a virgin.” he laughed at this point, like it was nothing. “So, I unbuttoned my pants and started stroking myself, and as I was feeling you, it started getting super wet, so I pulled your pants down more and stuck my dick-head down there. By that point, you were dripping. It was fucking amazing. I started going inside of you, but you stirred, so I stopped. After I made sre you asleep, I started rubbing my whole length against your dripping slit, and it felt like ecstasy.” I was really crying, and sniffling, and he kept going, like it was nothing. “After that, I kind of..uh..cummed on your slit, which I stuck two fingers up in there afterward, like lube, kind of, and started fingering you. You mustve liked it because you were moaning.” obviously, but i had no clue. “And I kept stroking and jacking off. I mean, you were out for an hour..I had plenty of time. I started moaning your name and all, and you bit your lip. I thought you were awake so I kept going and rubbed my dick along your clit again, and you shook. Literally shook, and then let out a huge moan..I had to throw a towel under you, that’s how much of a mess you made..Afterwards, I cleaned you up, and cleaned myself up, and then fixed your pants and stuff…but i was sticky so I went back to cleaning my hands, and you woke up.” I was in shock, literally. “Don’t worry, the towel isnt there and your fresh as new!” he said, and then laughed. again. like it was nothing.
I never ran as fast as I did when I got out of the house. I threw up, I cried. All before my mom came home. I had fallen asleep, again.
After this, my family moved to Pottsville, where I was battling with anorexia because the rumours carried over and I was being called fat and ugly and disgusting.
That’s when I met Derek. Derek Aguila. Who is still one of my best friends to this day. He introduced me to you. He was the one that opened me to the world of The Devil Wears Prada and to the world of you. He brought me over one day and told me to sit. I did, not knowing what was going on. He said, “Listen to this, alright?” I agreed, and that was the day I had heard my first song by TDWP. The first time I heard the lyrics you wrote and the music you made. And that was the day I swore to myself I would never cut again. June 23rd, 2009. The day after my 12th birthday.
But that wasn’t the case. I’ve been really, depressed for some reason that I can’t explain, and I’ve started cutting again. A lot. You’ll probably notice the scars on my right wrist, where I drew the Born to Lose symbol on it. And I really hope that you won’t say anything.
But I’m trying, and that is what I think only matters here. I’m trying as hard as I can to stop cutting. Not for myself, not for my friends, but for you. Because you are the reason I’m here. Ever since then, I have seen you twice. Back to the Roots and now Warped Tour ‘11. And I couldn’t be happier handing this to you as I meet you, autograph book and sharpie in one hand, camera and letter in the other. And I can’t wait to see you again.
I really hope you won’t judge me and call me a creep,
Summer Marie Wireman.
P.S, by letting go of this letter, I am letting go of everything in it and starting again. A rebirth, if you will. I’m going to start with a clean slate, a clean mind, and a happy body. Though my scars won’t go away. But I don’t mind that either. They’re something to look back on, to remind me that at one point I was just as depressed as any other person, and I was unstable and weak enough to give in. But I’m stronger now, thanks to you.
To start, I would like to say that you are the reason I am here, writing this letter to you, which will probably never be sent to you, or rather given, because I’m too much of a pussy to both give it to you and to say everything I want to say. But you know what? Fuck it, I’m giving this to you and there is nothing I can do about it. You are the reason I am here, writing this letter, because you and your lyrics and your band saved my life. And I know it sounds cliché, as there are probably many people who send you these kinds of things all the time, but I’m being as sincere as possible.
When I was 10, I had moved from Ohio back to Pennsylvania and I lived in a town called Schuylkill Haven. Oh God, Schuylkill Haven. Well, to sum it up without going into every little detail: about halfway through the first time I was there (in 5th grade, last two “semesters”), someone had started a rumour that I had been raped, and was having the child(meaning, as you probably know, that I was pregnant). This was utterly untrue because I knew no one in the town and I never went out anywhere.
Anyway, the rumour spread so fast, by the time it had gotten back to me, I was the laughing stock of the entire school. I was so fed up with everything I decided to skip and sleep all day. This seems irrelevant, because I hadn’t known who you were then but I’m getting to that. Anyway, the first time I had cut, I was caught (lucky me), and I was sent to the emergency room first, for losing so much blood, and then to 6P (Pottsville’s adolescent psychiatric unit), where I stayed for 6 days. This was right after my 11th birthday, and when I got out, they gave me this pill… I think it was Abilify? And it wasn’t meant for people under the age of 18. Anyway, it made me sleep all the time (I took it at night and it didn’t kick in until morning so I’d fall asleep in class). Soon, I stopped going to school altoether, and every morning I’d either fight with my mom to the point where we would have physical scars, or I’d get ready and stay upstairs and fall back asleep. And the rumours got worse, as i hadn’t been in school for a while and all of the kids thought I really was pregnant and that’s why I had gotten pulled out (but I was only 106 pounds and 5’6. wayyy skinny…I actually had anorexia, as afterward I lost at least 10 more pounds).
After about a few months into the new school year I went into 6P again for cutting. Again. And they had given me another pill. Wellbutrin XL, a pill which made me into a fucking zombie, and when taken in high doses, could be incredibly fatal. I would also do whatever anyone wanted me to do, I would black out, and it was horrible.
During this time, had met someone named Alyssa. Alyssa Hoffman. And she had made me my first AIM account. She added a bunch of people she said I would like talking to, and left me to do my own thing. One of the people was a boy named Brandon Bashore. We started talking, and I learned he lived two streets over. Only two! We decided to meet as during the time we had talked, we had video chatted and talked to each other on the phone. At this point, I had decided to try and end my life once again, but I didn’t cut. Instead, I took, instead of one, about 9 or 10 Welbutrin XL’s, which, as I said before, is a pill that when given in high doses can be proven fatal.
So, I walked over, drowsy as all fuck, and Brandon and I cuddled for a bit, and watched a scary movie…Mom said it was okay for me to stay the night, since we were like brother and sister, and so I brought some stuff over, and we were all warm and cute and cuddly, when I feel something super warm touch my stomach. I was so tired I didn’t think of it, and next thing you know I was passed out on his couch. He had moved me so I was laying on my back, and when I looked over, he was washing his hands in the kitchen, which you could see from the view I was looking. My first thought, “What the hell?”. That’s when I realized that my pants were undone. They’re a pair of pants that don’t fit me, so I leave them unbutton with a belt over top of it, and the belt was undone and my pants were all the way to the top of my knee.
That’s when it kicked in. He came back over and held me down, making me promise I would never tell anyone. I promised, and he told me everything that had happened: (this is extremely NSFW… and in full detail about what he said)
“Well, you know how teenage boys are, us horny little things…you said it was okay, i think, so I undid your pants and stuff when you were asleep..and felt around a bit down there.” by then I was crying, although he couldnt see. “And it felt really good…you were really wet, you know, for a virgin.” he laughed at this point, like it was nothing. “So, I unbuttoned my pants and started stroking myself, and as I was feeling you, it started getting super wet, so I pulled your pants down more and stuck my dick-head down there. By that point, you were dripping. It was fucking amazing. I started going inside of you, but you stirred, so I stopped. After I made sre you asleep, I started rubbing my whole length against your dripping slit, and it felt like ecstasy.” I was really crying, and sniffling, and he kept going, like it was nothing. “After that, I kind of..uh..cummed on your slit, which I stuck two fingers up in there afterward, like lube, kind of, and started fingering you. You mustve liked it because you were moaning.” obviously, but i had no clue. “And I kept stroking and jacking off. I mean, you were out for an hour..I had plenty of time. I started moaning your name and all, and you bit your lip. I thought you were awake so I kept going and rubbed my dick along your clit again, and you shook. Literally shook, and then let out a huge moan..I had to throw a towel under you, that’s how much of a mess you made..Afterwards, I cleaned you up, and cleaned myself up, and then fixed your pants and stuff…but i was sticky so I went back to cleaning my hands, and you woke up.” I was in shock, literally. “Don’t worry, the towel isnt there and your fresh as new!” he said, and then laughed. again. like it was nothing.
I never ran as fast as I did when I got out of the house. I threw up, I cried. All before my mom came home. I had fallen asleep, again.
After this, my family moved to Pottsville, where I was battling with anorexia because the rumours carried over and I was being called fat and ugly and disgusting.
That’s when I met Derek. Derek Aguila. Who is still one of my best friends to this day. He introduced me to you. He was the one that opened me to the world of The Devil Wears Prada and to the world of you. He brought me over one day and told me to sit. I did, not knowing what was going on. He said, “Listen to this, alright?” I agreed, and that was the day I had heard my first song by TDWP. The first time I heard the lyrics you wrote and the music you made. And that was the day I swore to myself I would never cut again. June 23rd, 2009. The day after my 12th birthday.
But that wasn’t the case. I’ve been really, depressed for some reason that I can’t explain, and I’ve started cutting again. A lot. You’ll probably notice the scars on my right wrist, where I drew the Born to Lose symbol on it. And I really hope that you won’t say anything.
But I’m trying, and that is what I think only matters here. I’m trying as hard as I can to stop cutting. Not for myself, not for my friends, but for you. Because you are the reason I’m here. Ever since then, I have seen you twice. Back to the Roots and now Warped Tour ‘11. And I couldn’t be happier handing this to you as I meet you, autograph book and sharpie in one hand, camera and letter in the other. And I can’t wait to see you again.
I really hope you won’t judge me and call me a creep,
Summer Marie Wireman.
P.S, by letting go of this letter, I am letting go of everything in it and starting again. A rebirth, if you will. I’m going to start with a clean slate, a clean mind, and a happy body. Though my scars won’t go away. But I don’t mind that either. They’re something to look back on, to remind me that at one point I was just as depressed as any other person, and I was unstable and weak enough to give in. But I’m stronger now, thanks to you.