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Elvis



He’ll write back.


He’ll definitely write back this time.


The last letter was corny, it was badly written, probably a bunch of spelling mistakes, but this one is perfect, I know it is.


If he doesn’t write back, that just means he’s the asshole, because this letter is perfect.


Sorry Elvis, I didn’t mean that, I take it back, you didn’t hear that did you? Can you? Can you hear my thoughts Elvis?


No, silly. Silly, that’s why Elvis doesn’t love you, you’re too silly, you need to get serious, you need to get a job, you need to clean your flat.


Oh God, the flat, what if instead of writing back, he just shows up? The flat is a mess. I need to put everything away. Straighten all my posters and make sure he can see them when he comes in so he can see how much I love him and then he’ll love me back and he’ll take me with him and he’ll write songs about me and everyone will love me then I won’t need a job.


Another line of cocaine. Fuck it hurts, what’d he cut it with?


The letter, the letter, I need to make sure the letter is good.


Why is everything so loud?


I need to change the first sentence, it’s fucking terrible, what was I thinking. Comparing him to a rose, really? He writes love songs all the time you think he hasn’t been compared to fucking roses before?


I need to change it. I need to re-write the whole thing. I need to make sure he loves me.

God, my heart feels weird.


Maybe I can start by quoting one of his songs.


“Love me tender, love me true, all my dreams fulfill. For my darling, I love you, and I always will.” It’s so beautiful, he was so good at writing words, my God he’s amazing.


When he’s on the TV and the way he shakes those legs.


Letter is better now. Open with one of his quotes to show that I know him and then tell him how I love him. That’s perfect, he’ll definitely write back.


The rats are fucking underneath the floorboards again, gross.


Another line of cocaine.


Ok, time to post it.


It’s bright outside, I’ll wait ’till the sun goes down. I don’t want people to see me until I have my Elvis.


Then people will see. All those people who spat on me when I asked for change. They’ll see, they’ll see. They’ll ask me if they can come with me when Elvis comes for me. And I’ll say no, I’ll say no because they said no to me.


I love you, Elvis. Your songs are about me. You don’t know it yet but they are.


Another line of cocaine.


Fuck, that one really hurt.


Breath out, breath out, you got it, you got it.


Just re-read the letter. Make sure it’s good, make sure it’s good, we want him to write back, we want him to come and save me.


He’ll come. Like a knight, he’ll come.


I know he will.


I know he will.


And everyone will see.


Another line of cocaine.


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