(no subject)
Dear Gentlemen Suitors,
I have a deep appreciation for your continued efforts to call on me. I understand you all have different motivations for doing so, but I think for the most part, I can write this to all of you without much discrepency among you.
On a daily basis, I see your techno-miss you love you wanna see you texts. I hear your complaints of my lack of time I have to give you. I understand I have an ass that wooed you and pretty eyes to give you something to look at besides my ass. I understand this. I really do. And gentlemen, don't worry about any ill feelings I might have to that common occurance. I have lived with it and it's flattering. You are all so different from one another; coming from radical backgrounds and radical lives, it's great to know I am not type-cast.
However, you have all lately tried to become more intimate with me. You have used words and phrases that strike painfully at my heart. Phrases and compliments, words and songs, all of which I have wanted to hear from everyone that doesn't count. It amazes me how close you all get to unlocking and snatching out those secret hopes of who I want to be and who I want to come off as.
This is why I write this letter to you all, as a group. I must clarify to you, gentlemen, that I can not bear to hear that from you right now. The many paragraphs you speak to me are too right, too perfect. I do not want to hear it anymore. I want you to forget my phone number, cats, street address, class schedule, work schedule. Please, please, forget my schedule.You've become so aware of my time that you know exactly when I have a free hour.You know exactly when you can expect a response to a techno-text. If I don't, it's like you caught me, I'm trapped. This can not be any longer. You can not take me to work, pick me up after, see me after class for the half hour I have. Gentle men! Hear this! Leave me to my thirteen hour days! My drunken loneliness! It is painful, true, but no more so, less so in fact, than your words and fucking goddamn constant techno-texts. Leave me be. I am not the one you are all looking for.
Thank you for reading this. I write it from the heart and with utmost respect and sincerity. You are all very great men. I embrace you.
Kelly
I have a deep appreciation for your continued efforts to call on me. I understand you all have different motivations for doing so, but I think for the most part, I can write this to all of you without much discrepency among you.
On a daily basis, I see your techno-miss you love you wanna see you texts. I hear your complaints of my lack of time I have to give you. I understand I have an ass that wooed you and pretty eyes to give you something to look at besides my ass. I understand this. I really do. And gentlemen, don't worry about any ill feelings I might have to that common occurance. I have lived with it and it's flattering. You are all so different from one another; coming from radical backgrounds and radical lives, it's great to know I am not type-cast.
However, you have all lately tried to become more intimate with me. You have used words and phrases that strike painfully at my heart. Phrases and compliments, words and songs, all of which I have wanted to hear from everyone that doesn't count. It amazes me how close you all get to unlocking and snatching out those secret hopes of who I want to be and who I want to come off as.
This is why I write this letter to you all, as a group. I must clarify to you, gentlemen, that I can not bear to hear that from you right now. The many paragraphs you speak to me are too right, too perfect. I do not want to hear it anymore. I want you to forget my phone number, cats, street address, class schedule, work schedule. Please, please, forget my schedule.You've become so aware of my time that you know exactly when I have a free hour.You know exactly when you can expect a response to a techno-text. If I don't, it's like you caught me, I'm trapped. This can not be any longer. You can not take me to work, pick me up after, see me after class for the half hour I have. Gentle men! Hear this! Leave me to my thirteen hour days! My drunken loneliness! It is painful, true, but no more so, less so in fact, than your words and fucking goddamn constant techno-texts. Leave me be. I am not the one you are all looking for.
Thank you for reading this. I write it from the heart and with utmost respect and sincerity. You are all very great men. I embrace you.
Kelly