Dear Evan Hansen

by Val Emmich

I start off on a direct route, but I always end up taking detours, wandering into the sketchy neighborhoods of my brain where nothing good ever happens.

He is an extreme overthinker. Imagine this goes with anxiety rep.

Not avoiding.”

“I don’t want another year of you sitting home alone on your computer every Friday night. You just have to find a way to put yourself out there.”

“I did three internships and ninety hours of community service. I know, wow.”

Sounds like my junior summer but what did I get out of that?? Depression😬

Yey! Jewish people

I’m trying to have a laugh at my own inadequacy, but as usual, my delivery is way off.

but for once I tell my instinct to fuck off.

I do stupid things when I’m nervous, which means I’m constantly doing stupid things.

Fantasies always sound good, but they’re no help when reality comes and shoves you to the ground.

When it trips up your tongue and traps the right words in your head. When it leaves you to eat lunch by yourself.

when it actually counts, who is there?

Connor actually read it,

Well why would he expect that? We all have our hidden self behind a facade when it comes to confidence. Or some do.

I sometimes imagine which one of us it would be coming through those doors.

If I could just talk to someone.

Most of the time you be suprised that you can. It really just takes a person to have to motivation for it. I understand that he feels alone, but i hope he comes to terms with the fact that he is not.

The jewish guy was laughing at the holocaust?!

“This is all we have,” she says. “This is the only thing we have left.”

can’t get back to where I was before I left. I can hear Mrs. Kiczek’s voice, but not her words.

crashed into that tree because I felt like it. My messiest decisions were always like that. Made in a split second. Nine times out of ten I’d walk away only wounded. Then,

Like there’s nothing to hold on to. I reached out to the only person I thought might help. And then, when that didn’t work…

Everyone seems to be circulating the same photo of Connor.

It is the only one they have. They weren't really friends with him yet they are nice about it

I also know that when you’re not in the best headspace, the trivial can turn into the insurmountable and all of a sudden you’re heading down a dark path and you can’t find your way back.

but I still feel some kind of connection with him, after all this, and it’s the right thing to do, to pay your respects when someone passes.

They’ll post something about Connor online but couldn’t be bothered to pay their respects in person?

It became this thing that followed me around. The logline to my movie, telling

people what to expect of me. Telling me what to expect of myself. I was the villain. That was my role. And Mrs. G was the victim. And for years, that’s been our story. But it demands a correction. She made a mistake. And so did I.

No you cant. Dumbass

nothing I tell my parents is true and they have no idea.

Cant relate

At one point, when the speedometer is up past sixty, I imagine unbuckling my belt, pulling the door handle, and tumbling out onto the busy road. What a tragedy.

I suppose this is what I get for building my walls so high. My family never actually knew about my life.

Connor is really bringing the school together.

Maybe he could be alive right now if I hadn’t printed that stupid letter.

haven’t spoken to Ranger Gus since my apprenticeship ended. I was with him five days a week for two months, and now we have nothing to do with each other.

It’s time to come out with the truth. The whole truth. It’s what I tried to do from the start, but I didn’t speak loudly or clearly enough.

WTF? Do you not live there? Why not just set up another day?

Besides the obvious differences between his bedroom and mine—my bed is half the size, my floors are carpeted, and my walls are painted light green—there are some striking similarities.

It’s a weird feeling, knowing that Connor and I both read the same book.

he didn’t know how to say all this to you. He didn’t know how to tell you

told them what I thought they wanted to hear. What I thought would make them happy.

The plan, if there ever was a plan, was to offer the Murphys solace in whatever way I could and then for me to go back to living my normal life.

I hope this doesnt turn out to be "i have found family through lying about your son" will it be? Probably

I thought he went to a different school?

I’m probably the only one who had any clue how he was truly feeling that day. Who else, besides me

Is thus really good rep. for therapist?

The water came for Connor, too. He must have fought for air until he just didn’t feel like fighting anymore. If I can understand anything, I can certainly understand that.

“That’s what happens when people leave, I think. When they’re gone, you don’t have to be reminded of all the bad things. They can just stay the way you want them forever. Perfect.”

Sam?

Against all the negative feedback, a few nice words didn’t register.

They meant less from my mother (who overdid it), more from my father (who underdid it), and the most from…

I’m so tired of walking this tightrope. Sometimes it just requires too much. I’ve been longing for the safety of solid ground. I could end it—right here and now.