A/N: If you happen to catch the Rise Against lyrics in here, I will deeply love you for a long time. (I don't own, by the way.)

Dear Soda,

I don't know if I'll ever really get around to sending this, but I'm still going to write as if I'm talking to you. It helps me think that maybe you're not so far away, after all. Even though I know you are, but I can't think that way.

Because the thing is, Soda, I never wanted to leave. You have to trust me on this. I wanted to be with you, to have a life with you in it. I still do. But my parents… not so much. Said I was too young to be thinking that way and I needed to clear my head. So they just up and left and they're my parents, what was I really supposed to do? Even if they hadn't dragged me along with them, I probably still would've gone. Even if it meant my visions of a future with you vanished in an instant.

It doesn't change how I feel about you. It never will. And who knows? Maybe in a couple of years, we could have a life together. I could show you that the world isn't only full of pain. Maybe I will prove my parents wrong. They've made me determined to. But I need to get out of school first, and out of this god-forsaken town, too. It's horrible here. The food is weird, the people have really strange accents, and the weather, well, I can best describe it as bipolar. Half the time it's really cold and windy, the other half it's hot and humid and sort of sticky. And every day when I wake up, there's always one second where I forget where I am, and I think I'm back in Tulsa and I'll get to see you and Pony and the rest- and then I'm completely crushed when I realize that I'm still trapped here like a bird in a cage, away from everything that I know and remember. And love.

Sometimes, I think I live for that one moment when I delude myself that everything's the way it should be.

I swear, one of these days, I'll finally get out of this place and I'll get back to Tulsa. Back to you. And if you're not there, I'll search every state of America until I find you. I won't let anyone get in my way.

But, I have to believe you're there. You couldn't just be… gone. It's where you belong. It's where I belong.

I haven't told anyone about you, or about anything. Maybe I should. Maybe I shouldn't. Part of me thinks that no one would believe me, because let's face it, not everyone has names like Sodapop or Ponyboy, but I also think that it would just be too painful. I'm sitting here crying just writing a letter that you're probably never going to read, so who knows what might happen if I actually started talking about anything. As much as I hate this place, I don't want anyone thinking I'm crazy either, when I start raving about some redneck little town and greasers and Socs and you- it'd just be too much to bear. Feels like I've been here so long already…

The only thing keeping me together is the hope that this won't last forever, and I won't have to keep these secrets from everyone anymore. It's the only thing keeping me going. The only thing that keeps me from pulling the covers over my head and shutting everything out and hoping to sleep, because when I'm asleep, at least there's the possibility of a good dream.

Who am I kidding? All I've ever done is live on front porches and swing life away. I don't know how I'll get back. With all this talk, I don't know if I'm getting closer or just getting more lost, because I'm still stuck here, and memories are like paper wings. They won't bring me back to you. All they do is make it more painful, so far from you. They make me smile, thinking of so many good times, but it reminds me that, however pleasant they were, these good times are past, and life doesn't afford enough time to be so nostalgic.

I'm not sure if it's better to reflect on the good times, or to carry on and avoid looking back at what you've done and live in the moment. Never been sure. I guess it depends on what your memories are.

Now that I think about it, I'm actually just scared. I'm scared that I'm never going to see you again, or that when I do find you, you won't be the same person I fell in love with, or that I won't be the person you fell in love with. Or maybe that you never did love me, not really. I'm worried that everything was just based on my own stupidity, my own unrealistic expectations of love.

But I still wouldn't trade my memories of you for the world.

And I can't wait for the day when it's not all just talk. For when life has more purpose than "Get up, survive, go back to sleep." For when I'm not so unsure and paranoid. For when it doesn't hurt so bad.

I'm sitting here writing a letter that no one will ever see, that contains my own secrets and fears. Contains my own personal reason for living that, deep down, I think I always knew was there. And I don't want anyone to see it. My letter is addressed to you, but I think I wrote it for myself. It all becomes so deceptively simple when it's written out, in ways that another person could understand. But then again, would you want someone else to understand, after all? Some things are better left alone. Sometimes, there's just too much wrong with the world, that our secrets get lost.

Lost. But not forgotten. Just like I won't ever forget you.

Goodbye, Soda.

I miss you.

All my love,

Sandy

A/N2: Merry Christmas, y'all! (I know, I'm really, really white. STFU. :/)

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