Dear, Jenny

Dear Jenny,

You told me write a letter when I felt like I was missing someone close.

Nowadays, late at night, I always really miss you the most.

I’ve been thinking about you before I go to bed.

I can hear your voice travel through my head.

Last night, I finally saw you when I closed my eyes.

I miss all of the good times you left behind.

I miss all of the sweet words you use to say.

This letter is to let you know that I’ll be okay.

Your smile lit up all the darkness I ever saw.

I wish you were here to answer all of my calls.

You should have told me everything you were going through.

I would have done every and anything just to help you.

I should have been there to stop and yell at all those kids.

I didn’t know the pain behind your laugh and how fragile it actually is.

That was the past and now look where we are.

You always believed in me, and thought I could be a star.

I wish you could see me now, and all the things that I do.

Actually, every night, I wish I could see you too.

I look up at the clouds


see all of the fun we found.

Will my angel help me decide the right path to choose?

One day, I pray, I’ll live in the sky with you.

Dear, Jenny

Rest in Peace

Written with all my love,

From me.

My Ballerina

My ballerina dances with the Devil

She’s living how the models live

She feels empty on the inside,

but never as empty as the bottle is


Chasers broke her heart,

so she drinks it all straight

Lines for the bathroom for a line in the bathroom,

please, baby, just be safe


My ballerina dances with the devil

She forgets who her mother raised

Left it all behind,

but she was gone before that day


Rolling and dancing,

but on the inside she cries

Her eyes drop and the clock stops,

so why even check the times


My ballerina dances with the Devil,

where is she tonight?

She tells me she feels down,

so she has to get high


It’s getting hard to hear

or is it hard to speak

Her mind starts to float,

who will sweep her off her feet


My ballerina dances with the Devil,

I can see her scream and yell

The Devil took my ballerina,

but I don’t want to go to Hell


My ballerina dances with me

This nectar tastes so sweet

We cry and we dance,

I swept her off her feet


My ballerina dances with now;

she’s addicted to my drug

I’m addicted to the pinks and purples,

and I love her touch


How the Hell did I get here?

How the Hell did we her?

The Monster

Her name was scripture

I watched her wander in the night

She searched for something she did not believe in


The moonlight shone so bright

It lit a path she would not take

Her road had to be different today


Under the breeze, her feet shuffled

She quickened her pace

The eyeliner was the only thing that ran


The Monster needs the night to live.

The stars show him the world for what it is.


The Monster felt her destiny

They met under the desolate sky

They were the infinity we think we deserve


I say the scripture as I see her

The words mixed in with the wind

It took the words away from me


In times like this, I fall

I tumble and tumble until I end in a familiar place

I run and fall from the monster that takes me at night


We become the monster until the sun reaches the top and he hides again.

When we see the moon, we are the monster’s only friend.

How I Became A Scumbag

I’m a deceitful, lying, terrible person. I wrote this to help myself. It’s a psychological exercise. It’s kind of like I was looking to see where the mistakes were made and where I learned something. This is a list of girls, whether it was a crush or something came out of it, that I recalled. Some of the names and locations have been changed. These are my stories. I decided to publish this publically. Hopefully you can learn something.

I remember when I was 6, I lived in a dingy apartment building in this humongous apartment complex. There were about 10-30 kids outside all the time. When my mom wasn’t a Tiger Mom, I was allowed to go outside. 
When we moved into that apartment, I remember, this guy came and showed us around. He lived in the complex, and he kept everything clean. He had a daughter my age. That’s when it all started. 
His daughter, Samantha, was beautiful to me. I remember when I first met her. When I introduced myself to all the neighborhood kids, I told them my name and it all snowballed. 
“I’m Phuong. Can I play with you guys?”
This sentence seems so stupid to me now. Can I play with you? Why do we want to play with the people we played with? 
They made fun of my name. It was foreign to them, so why wouldn’t they? They told me I couldn’t play. I guess not being able to play along with the cool kids was a big part of my life. Samantha didn’t make fun of my name, though. 
She walked over to me when I walked away and she grabbed my hand. I wish girls were this forward now. She told me I had a pretty name. Nothing about me is pretty, but I don’t think I’ve ever smiled like that again. 
She always invited me over to her house. We would play House, and we were pretty progressive for being so young. She came home from work and I would cook mud for us in her Fisher-Price house in her room. We would drink the lemonade her dad made after school. Those days were so simple, but that’s what made them so fun. 
One time, before school we walked to the bus stop together. She told me that we weren’t going to school that day. (Those were the days where the teacher would just mark you absent, instead of the school calling your parents.)  We were going to explore. I didn’t know what that meant, but I felt safe around Samantha. Gender roles, right?
She brought me to the woods. My mom told me to never go in the woods, but Samantha said it was alright. We walked deep into the woods until we reached a clearing. She opened up her backpack and pulled out sandwiches. This was planned. We ate the sandwiches and we talked about cartoons too. We explored deeper into the woods until I looked down at my Mickey Mouse watch and realized what time it was. 
We ran back home. I remember thanking her for sharing the day with me. She kissed me on the cheek. To this day, my parents still think I went to school. 
We did this infrequently, but we saw each other every day. There was always something to do with Samantha. I began to call her Sammie, like how her grandmother did. She told me secrets like that. 
Then, she abruptly stopped hanging out with me. No more walking to the bus stop together. No more woods together. No more Pokemon marathons. No more House. I didn’t understand that feeling of being abandoned yet. The neighborhood kids, at this point, were my friends. Hanging out with them was weird without Samantha. 
The worst feeling is when it ends and you don’t know why. Closure is an important detail they don’t tell you about. 
The love I had for Samantha will always be unmatched. She was the one that showed me if you open your mouth and show someone that you’re a nice person and be their friend, then you open up a whole new world for them. I moved to a different city in 6th grade, and I have never heard from Samantha since then. 

I moved to Easton, and no matter how much shit anyone talks about it, I love my experiences here. 
When I moved here, I already had AIM (before texting, we used this) and MySpace (before Facebook) set up. I had the best music and layouts for MySpace and my buddy icons and buddy info were top notch on AIM. I mean, I worked hard on that. Social status was everything and it still is, but I don’t know why. 
The guidance counselor introduced me to Dom, one of the cooler kids, and I was able to immerse myself amongst his friends. It was just like that. I introduced myself and that was it. How was it all so simple? This was foreign stuff to me. 
One day, I got a friend request on MySpace from this girl Kaysee, who was friends with Dom. She asked for my AIM username. Then, we dated. All I had to do was add her name and the date and AAF (always and forever).
I never had a girlfriend before. I didn’t know what to do with one. I still don’t, actually.
Does your mom just drive you to the movies? Do you go to Skate-a-Way?
What’s making out? People were making out now! How do I get in on that?
We would talk at night on the phone. We threw around “I love you” so often. We never spoke in school. We just talked at night every night at 9:00. 
She broke up with me after a few days. 
“Change your buddy info.”
That’s how painless the breakup was, and this planted the idea in my mind that breakups are easy. It wasn’t like when Samantha stopped talking to me.
You watch Boy Meets World, but not every girl is Topanga. You can’t go around looking for an an Aunt Becky, a Laura Winslow, or a Rachel. You just run into them and it happens. 

In 7th grade, things changed. I wasn’t in the same class as Dom. I didn’t know anyone. I was uncool. Kaysee switched schools. It was like getting a bite, and then your food is taken away. It felt good to be given so much privilege, and it was all gone.
I remembered what Samantha taught me though. I opened my mouth, and said something funny in my Reading class. That’s all it took to make friends?
I met Aliza. Aliza was and still is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She had to like me, I mean, she was nice to me. I could not be any more wrong. Through previous dating experience, all I had to do was add her on MySpace and AIM. That was it. If I remember correctly, she spent a period on my Top 8 at some point. 
Aliza was nice. That’s what it took. I just wanted someone to be nice to me. Aliza and I spent hours on AIM. At this point, I didn’t realize I was just a friend. Boys don’t know that. Even right now, I still don’t know if I’m just a friend. 
I think that was the first time I ever used to word crush. I couldn’t tell anyone though. Who was I going to tell? I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t have Dom back, and I never saw him again. Who was there for me? I couldn’t tell Aliza either. I just kept it a secret, and never addressed it.
She would date a lot of guys. I heard that she kissed someone and I went home after school and locked myself in my room. I really didn’t know what to do when I heard that. That was supposed to be my kiss. She was supposed to be my girlfriend.
She was going to have sex with them. That’s what I thought. I didn’t really know what sex was. I didn’t know how to get a kiss. I didn’t know what handjobs were. Girls were just giving them out, apparently. I didn’t get the memo. 

One time this girl Kaylyn sat down next to me on the bus, in 7th grade, and her hand grazed my crotch. I told two people I got a handjob. She did give me a kiss though, and on the mouth at that. Things didn’t get as serious as I had hoped though. 

I tried to let Aliza fade out of my life, but that never happened. I continued a strong friendship with her up until we graduated. I still don’t think I ever told her I had a crush on her 7 years ago. 
Aliza, much like every other girl, taught me something. She was so nice to everyone. It was so easy to talk to her. If you make yourself approachable, people are going to like you. 
A few people didn’t like her though, which was a bigger lesson. You can’t please everyone. 

In 8th grade, I finally had friends. As a matter of fact, I met my best friends to this day in 8th grade. I also met Gigi.
I reverted back to elementary tactics with her. My friends and I would make fun of her all the time. Gigi never took offense to it though. Her personality was something I would find attractive years later. She was quick-witted, smart, and so sarcastic. She was like Sarah Silverman and Amy Schumer in one person. Honestly, one of the only women I will ever claim to be funny. That sounds like sexism, but I genuinely don’t find most women funny. Sorry, ladies. 
History loves to repeat itself. This time, I added her on Facebook. That’s about all that changed. I did learn something from Gigi, though. I still hold to a high standard. 
No matter what anyone says to you, always smile. Gigi was always happy, and I think that’s what attracted me to her in the first place. 

Freshman year of high school might have been the worst year of my life to date. I was bitter. I was angry. I was quiet. I wasn’t in any of the same classes as my best friends. It was disgusting. Did I mention I wasn’t cool? Freshmen are never ever cool.

I spent a majority of freshman year confusing myself. I started thinking someone is attractive and actually having a crush or liking them a lot were the same things. I was so into having conversations with girls that were out of my league, because I thought they were pretty. They couldn’t even carry the conversation most of the time. It just felt good to talk to someone. 

10th Grade was a year that changed me. I don’t know what happened, but I finally stopped giving a shit. I finally stopped caring about school. It was so superficial the way people treated each other and the way grades and tests were giving out, there was no point. Honor roll was irrelevant to me. I also began to understand that unless there are clear signs that a girl likes you, then she probably doesn’t like you. I wish twitter was relevant back then. Favoriting my tweets and RTs is 100% a better sign. I did care about my science class though.
From 8th grade on, there was always a class where I felt the most comfortable in, for some reason. I did the best in these classes, socially and scholastically. In 10th grade, it was science. Mrs. Stavey was very mean teacher. True story, she once told me that someone was going to beat the shit out of me. Those classes were unbearable until Katie transferred into the class.
Katie was hot. Flat out, point blank. She probably still is, too. She would walk into class and sit next to me every day, because she said I was the funniest kid in class. 
Me? Funniest kid? Ego boner. 
Katie began to date an older kid. I heard about her sexual adventures through the grapevine. I felt like such an idiot for spending so much time on her. I gave her double the attention she would give me, and that attention was for different intentions. She just liked the fact that I was funny. She wanted nothing to do with me beyond that.
No matter how hard you work for something, it might not always work out for you. That’s just how life is. This knowledge is sobering. 

I stopped trying to be funny around Katie. There was no reason to anymore. I’m still on the fence about this type of behavior. On the one hand, I didn’t have to impress Katie or anything. On the other hand, that’s childish. Just like that, she faded out of my life. You can see the repetition here.

Somewhere along the way, I met Kerry. Kerry, in the times we hung out, challenged me. She would get mad at me. I never had a girl be mad at me. I still don’t know what to do when they’re pissed at me. She made me think. She kept me on my toes. To this day, I still say the first funny thing that comes to my mind. I wanted to pick her brain though.
The biggest problem with Kerry was that she always brought up her exes. We would go out to eat after school every Thursday. She would always end up discussing her ex-boyfriends. That kind of talk makes a guy think you’re just friends. I never pulled the trigger. Eventually, we drifted apart like it was nothing. 
Again, this situation always bothered me. Kerry and I actually attend the same college now, but it’s so weird to think that two people that could spend every night talking just stop. This happened to me so often. Funny story is that a year or two later, she told me that she did like me. Too little, too late, huh?

Again, I wasted another school year. I wasn’t going to have that anymore. I was about to be an upperclassmen. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I didn’t actually want a girlfriend. I just wanted to win. You needed a girlfriend in high school, I thought. Relationships are like trophies and social achievements


My junior year was one of my favorite years. I spent so much time with my best friends. For me to want to date a girl now, she would have to make me want to stop hanging out with my friends. I don’t like bringing girls around my friends. If I do, then that girl is special. If I ever brought you around any of my friends, you really do mean something to me.

When I wasn’t with my friends, I was in school. I had Chemistry with one of my best friends, Harman. Tara was also in that class. I was trying to make some chemistry with Tara. (That pun is fucking hilarious. I don’t care.)

In 11th grade, my house caught fire. My family moved in with my aunt and uncle, who coincidentally lived by Tara.

In some ways, Tara reminded me of Gigi. She was sarcastic. She was funny. The one thing that I really liked about her though, was the fact that she was so indifferent. Sometimes, you just don’t have to have an opinion. I think some of her sarcasm rubbed off on me, too.

Tara invited me to her birthday party, a Harry Potter theme party, and casually over to her house. I always went to everything she planned, just because she invited me.

One day, Tara started telling me about a guy that she liked in our gym class. I think my stare could pierce through her. Just like with Katie, I stopped trying to hang out with Tara. I didn’t want to be friends with Tara.

In all honesty, there aren’t that many of my current female friends I wouldn’t hook up with, which is pretty messed up. With Tara though, I flat out didn’t want to see to her at all. Then, one day she said she wasn’t talking to that kid anymore. Suddenly, I wanted to be friends with her again.

In my experiences with girls in high school, they always had the advantage on me. I was naïve and confused. I didn’t know how to act or react.

In my times with Tara, I realized that there are going to be girls that you just can’t be with, and I can’t believe how long it took me realize it.


I met Chloe in 8th grade, and coincidentally, in a science class. I had a crush on Chloe since freshman year. She was always off doing her own thing, which I think drew me towards her. She was secretive, mysterious, and weird.

Chloe was Phoebe from Friends. The way she talked, the way she carried herself, was Phoebe. I swear she wore a ton of rings too.

At first, it was small. I was invited to be a contestant in the Mr. Easton Beauty Pageant. I asked Chloe to be my escort, and she obliged. One of the other contestants asked his girlfriend to prom there, in front of so many people. I was going to ask Chloe, but I had to do it bigger.

I looked up ways to ask girls to prom, and I combined almost all of the ones I found. During school, I skipped a class. I dressed up like a king, and had a friend dress up like a jester. I even had a little scepter and one of those horse heads on a stick that you could gallop on. A friend in band played a royal fanfare, which marked my entrance I had told my plans to more than one person, though. Two other classrooms wanted to see what I was doing. There was a presentation from a District Judge in her Government class too, which meant I had a very big audience.

She said yes.

I met her family soon after. Her mom and dad, her sisters, and her dog Vinny were all very nice to me. I remember we walked around her neighborhood and she told me I was allowed to hold her hand.

At this point in my life, I was still very cautious. I genuinely liked Chloe. Every single time I tried to do anything with a girl I liked, it ended up bad. She told me I could kiss her, too.

The problem with Chloe was that she was friends with a demon spawn. I hated her friend Krista. Krista’s sole purpose was to make my life hell, and to this day I am still convinced. I wasn’t going to tell Chloe who to be friends with, but damn it, Krista is a piece of shit.

After prom, which was fun, things started to go downhill. We stopped hanging out frequently. At the time, I didn’t notice it. In hindsight, things were fading away and would abruptly end like with Samantha.

I think that was partially my fault. I was so happy to be with someone, even though I’m still very confused about what we had and the sordid details of our “relationship.” I just wanted to tell everyone that I was with Chloe. She was so fun to be around. Surely, history had to repeat itself. Text messages became shorter, until they were nonexistent. Poof. Gone.

In my experiences where things faded away, it’s clear that it’s never just one person’s fault. There are multiple factors. If you start a relationship, remember to keep things between you and your partner. When other people get involved, only bad things can come out of it.



Paige was my first college crush. I mean, you go to college, and of course you fall in love. Paige was an upperclassman in my Acting class. We did one scene together. One. That was all it took.

We had an assignment where we had to go see a school play, and of course I asked her to go with me. From Kerry, I learned that you have to be bold. It’s always hard to put yourself out there, but why not take the leap?

She said yes.

I ran up and down my building trying to find a dollar to have enough for a ticket. During the play, we both put our hand on the armrest and she grabbed my hand. She held it tight, too. Afterwards, we went to her car. We hooked up.

We started to actually hook up a lot more often. It was sudden, it was random, and it was stupid. I didn’t want to be in a “relationship” my freshman year. Then, she sprung the news on me.

“I have a boyfriend.”

A boyfriend! Some guy that she calls at night that knows her goals, worries, fears, and dream, was dating her. She was cheating on her boyfriend. I couldn’t do that, because I wanted to be the only one for her.

I sat in my room after that, and it all started coming to me.

This was when I became a scumbag.

I became meticulous with how to reach out to women I found attractive. In class, I would go on Twitter and Facebook and see statuses and tweets about bad boyfriends. I would see Instagram posts about newly single girls. I would call girls and tell them I liked their Instagram picture.

Julia & Lucy:

I couldn’t decide between Julia and Lucy. I met Julia on the first day at ESU, and Lucy at a party. They lived in the same building. They both made it very clear I was someone they wanted, but Julia wanted a relationship. Lucy, who was already in one, just wanted someone there, because her boyfriend wasn’t around.

Like the asshole I was becoming, I started to string Julia along. For two and half semesters, I treated her like complete shit. Julia’s not her real name, but I’m sorry, Julia. I would see her try to move on and talk to other guys. I’d end up texting her “I Miss You.”

I would be out with Lucy, doing whatever I wanted. They couldn’t be with anyone though. I wanted Lucy to break up with her boyfriend, and she did. She broke up with her boyfriend for me, and I stopped talking to her. The occasional “I miss you” text would flood in, but she broke up with someone she was with for a year to be with me and I wanted nothing to do with her.

It began to get worse and worse. My narcissism was growing.

At a party I went to, I made out with a girl my friend had brought up from home. I have no willpower, I guess. The Scumbag Bug bit me and it I was infected.


Ella was a girl that lived in the same building as me. She was shy, insecure, and a little crazy. I also found out that she liked me. Of course I had to manipulate her. I made her feel like she was the only girl I was talking to and the only girl that mattered. I was her first everything. She would ask me to define the relationship.

“I don’t like to put labels on things.”

“Let’s just let it progress on its own.”

“I can’t answer that right now.”

“Go with the flow.”

She would ask if we would see each other over the summer.

“There’s still school.”

“We’ll figure it out when we get to it.”

“I’ll be pretty busy.”

Pick any of these answers. I must have said any of these over 1000 times to her. Then, she started to show her crazy side.

She would ask me where I was or who I was with all the time.

Lucy’s room with Lucy. Julia’s room with Julia. Marissa’s room with Marissa (Has a boyfriend). Gia’s room with Gia. Maddie’s room with Maddie(Has a boyfriend). Amanda’s room with Amanda. Megan’s room with Megan. Emily’s room with Emily(Has a boyfriend).

Pick your poison

“I was with my fraternity brothers.”

This was always my favorite excuse. I don’t like girls that are in sororities at East Stroudsburg. They know how fraternities work. They understand. Girls on the outside have no idea what I’m talking about, when I say “My big bro needs me right now.” Brendan never needed me at those times.

Why can’t you spend the night, at least once?

“I have a chapter meeting.”

“I have a brotherhood event.”

“I have a philanthropy event.”

“We have community service to do.”

“We have to get up early for something.”

Pick your second dose.

It became so easy to lie my way out of things. It was almost like telling the truth to girls was a second language. It was beyond easy to convince girls in relationships that maybe they should cheat on their boyfriends. I manipulated these girls, point blank.

Then, I ran into Kiley.


I met Kiley my freshman year, but she was having sex with a few other people. Kiley was really nice to me and a show of smoke. She’s the last girl I’ve “liked” in a while. We started off very strong. We were moving slowly, and I wasn’t treating her like I treated the names above. As a matter of fact, I asked her out to dinner once.

She called me asked me if I wanted to go to New York City. I love the city. I want a house there one day.

I said yes.

I met her grandmother. Nonna was simply the nicest lady in the world. Even though I told her I didn’t celebrate Easter, she made me an Easter basket, which I could pick up the following week. The next seven days up until we went to pick up the basket was the pre-game for one of the most volatile things I’ve ever been a part of, actually.

Kiley and I both have a past, and we agreed that what happened in the past stays in the past. However, she would see me with Julia or Lucy or any of the above mentioned girls. She became insecure, even though I didn’t hook up with any of them.

In her defense, it is sketchy to be around exes or old hookups of any sort. I definitely wasn’t trying to do anything with these girls, though. She asked me over and over again when we went to see her Nonna. I couldn’t handle it anymore and I threw the Easter basket on the ground and stepped on all the chocolate. I made her cry.

I hate seeing girls cry, because it’s really awkward. I mean, it also sucks that you drove them to a point where tears physically fall form their face, but it also is one of the most awkward things to be in front of, guys.

Her insecurities were getting out of hand, though. I snapped. When Kiley was acting insecure, I would go and give her something to be insecure about. I would do the usual “I miss you” text messages all over again.

It was like, I worked so hard to change and not be such a scumbag and treat a girl right, and it all reverted back to square one.

After Paige, I just became so bored after a few weeks with every girl. I know it sounds awful, but that’s the point of all of this. Every girl just began to bore me, because it was the same conversations with her roommate, her teammate, her floormate. Every girl began to sound and act the same to me, and so I acted the same with them.

Present Day:

It’s summertime, and I’m back home. A few girls from high school have reached out to me. A couple girls from my college have received drunken texts. At the beginning of the summer, I was diving deeper and deeper into someone I didn’t want to be at all. I was a homewrecker, a heartbreaker, a liar, and a scumbag.

I guess I’m trying to make up for all the times I was fucked over. Maybe I wouldn’t have treated Ella badly if Samantha didn’t just fade away. Maybe I would have dated Julia if Chloe gave me closure.

As of right now, I’ve been relaxed and keeping away from any scumbag tactics. There are days where I might text someone just to have a conversation, and there might be some ulterior motives, but I’m trying to learn.

After writing and remembering all of these things that have happened to me, I would really like to thank all of these girls. Without them, I would not be who I am today. I also apologized to any girl I’ve hurt and made cry in my few semesters at college or even in high school.

I swear I’m trying to become a better person, and there are times where I might send out a few texts or like Instagram pictures I shouldn’t.

We all mistakes. We’re not perfect. With that being said, ladies if you’re in a relationship and you think it’s not working out, please email me or tweet me or text me and we can discuss where things are going wrong.

Here’s some visuals for your enjoyment.