A few open letters
Dear Brainmeats,
Please stop trying to pulsate through my skull. Trust me when I tell you that the sensation of my head about to split open like a rotten melon is not one I relish. In fact, it's pretty high on my list of "Unfun Ways My Body Can Fuck Me Over." The mild nausea is bad enough, but do you really have to make reading journal articles and writing a paper that much LESS fun?
No Love,
Me
Dear Mother Nature,
Cut this ice shit out. Right now.
No love with extra spite on top,
Me
Dear Universe,
I understand that you were only trying to help me get to my meeting on campus on time. And I will admit that tumbling down the hill did get me to the bottom much more quickly than the slow, shuffling walk I had originally adopted. However, I'm fairly certain that you didn't factor in the time I'd spend lying on my back, testing each individual limb for injury when you calculated the time I'd save taking the hill at 'a plummet' instead of 'a walk'. The car that nearly creamed me was an excellent motivator to get up off my ass and out of the street, however.
I would like to add a thank you for not having me break any bones as I fell, though I will say that it didn't do my migraine any good.
Hugs and kisses,
shadowravyn
Dear 2008,
Let me start off by saying I can completely sympathize with how you're feeling right now. You're ending in slightly over two weeks; that's enough to make anyone experience a little bit of anxiety. You're worried about being remembered, and you want to go out with a bang. Like I said, I totally understand.
However, the way you're going about this is all wrong. Not all attention is good attention. Sure, people may remember you longer with all the tragedy and whatnot you're trying to shove into your last weeks, but that doesn't mean that they'll remember you with fondness. Really, 2008--cancer? Divorce? The economy? (Though I'll admit, you did have some help with that.) Really, you're trying too hard, and in the wrong direction. If you want to be remembered, why don't you have one of my friends win the lotto? Or a two-for-one pony sale? Or a heart attack (or two) in the White House before the 31st? And maybe a few miracle cures for good measure? Trust me, that's how you go about getting people to regret your passing. Right now, all you're doing is making people long for 2009.
Hope this helps,
Me
Please stop trying to pulsate through my skull. Trust me when I tell you that the sensation of my head about to split open like a rotten melon is not one I relish. In fact, it's pretty high on my list of "Unfun Ways My Body Can Fuck Me Over." The mild nausea is bad enough, but do you really have to make reading journal articles and writing a paper that much LESS fun?
No Love,
Me
Dear Mother Nature,
Cut this ice shit out. Right now.
No love with extra spite on top,
Me
Dear Universe,
I understand that you were only trying to help me get to my meeting on campus on time. And I will admit that tumbling down the hill did get me to the bottom much more quickly than the slow, shuffling walk I had originally adopted. However, I'm fairly certain that you didn't factor in the time I'd spend lying on my back, testing each individual limb for injury when you calculated the time I'd save taking the hill at 'a plummet' instead of 'a walk'. The car that nearly creamed me was an excellent motivator to get up off my ass and out of the street, however.
I would like to add a thank you for not having me break any bones as I fell, though I will say that it didn't do my migraine any good.
Hugs and kisses,
shadowravyn
Dear 2008,
Let me start off by saying I can completely sympathize with how you're feeling right now. You're ending in slightly over two weeks; that's enough to make anyone experience a little bit of anxiety. You're worried about being remembered, and you want to go out with a bang. Like I said, I totally understand.
However, the way you're going about this is all wrong. Not all attention is good attention. Sure, people may remember you longer with all the tragedy and whatnot you're trying to shove into your last weeks, but that doesn't mean that they'll remember you with fondness. Really, 2008--cancer? Divorce? The economy? (Though I'll admit, you did have some help with that.) Really, you're trying too hard, and in the wrong direction. If you want to be remembered, why don't you have one of my friends win the lotto? Or a two-for-one pony sale? Or a heart attack (or two) in the White House before the 31st? And maybe a few miracle cures for good measure? Trust me, that's how you go about getting people to regret your passing. Right now, all you're doing is making people long for 2009.
Hope this helps,
Me