Dear X:

Dear X,

An essay question: compare and contrast how I reacted to finding a story about myself on lit to how De__ and Da_ reacted in the same situation.

Or have they not had that experience yet?

j
 
Dear X,

I have no idea who you think you are and how you manage to do whatever the fuck you want in an organization with so much red-tape as ours, but good-riddance. I only wish you would have informed me of your departure sooner so I didn't waste paper making up a timecard for you.

Your former boss.
 
Dear You,

Seriously. I'm going to be in there in about fifteen seconds to give you a good ravishing.

E.
 
Dear X,

I think spoken language is overrated. The moments we share together that are wordless yet full of communication are the ones I relish. Je t'aime.

LA
 
Dear Body,

Please, please cooperate. I'm just trying to take care of you, eh?

Love,
McK
 
Dear M,

I don't think the rule's going to work. Not because I'm feeling rebellious, but because it's impossible to work inside such a narrow margin. So either I need exemption, or I'm going to keep breaking it. I'll let you make the choice.

Zade
 
Dear N.

You make my life so much easier because you do your job and you are one of the best around. I wish there were something I could do to show my appreciation for the effortless way you back up my decisions, step in to help out without being prompted, or take charge when I am already involved in a situation. I have fought to keep you with me, and want so very much to take you with me if/when I leave.

So in all ways. Thank you.

:rose:
 
Dear Gizz,

You come in every night after work and give me a kiss, and crawl in bed with me whether I wake up fully or not. You give me a hug and a hell of a feel when I leave for work in the morning. You hold me when I'm angry, sad, or scared, and you chase away the demons that currently haunt me at night. You help me with the housework, even though your schedule is far more grueling than mine.

I sometimes feel like I don't return all of the wonderful things you do for me, but I do hope you know that I love you with all my heart, with everything that I am. *Nothing* will change that.

Love always,
Me
 
Dear X,

I wish I were a young, inexperienced, wide-eyed 20 year old again sitting in your class discussing theatre of the absurd. I wish I could hear you talk about Pirandello's 'Six Characters in Search of an Author' again. I have never been so mesmerized by any lecture. You were beautiful and wonderful.

LA
 
Dear A,

I know I've always gotten along with you better than I did with your husband, but I always thought he was cool. I considered him a friend, almost as much as I did you. But this is ridiculous.
I guess an 'open relationship' wasn't enough, huh? You were happy for 8 years getting to fuck other guys and all of a sudden, you don't want to be married to him anymore? Maybe I'm missing something.
Maybe it's just me, but not EVERYTHING is about you. You know I love you to death, but sometimes, you are nothing more than a fucking attention whore. Yeah, I know you've told me the two of you sleep in separate bedrooms and haven't had sex in almost two years, but I can't help noticing that you seem to blame him for everything. Last time I checked, relationships were a two-way street. It can't be ALL his fault.
I think what makes me the angriest about this whole thing is that once you have the opportunity, you're going to come to me and expect me to make everything okay. You'll want me to be your shoulder to cry on, the one to tell you everything will be okay, to tell you how bad he was to you. You'll want me to tell you that you're right.
Fuck that.
You'll probably be off next weekend to J's to fuck him silly while your husband is sitting at home, heartbroken...utterly CRUSHED by you. I wouldn't be surprised if D tries to kill himself while you're gone. And this may a TERRIBLE thing to say...I absolutely hate myself for saying this...but maybe it would be better for him if he did.
He dedicated himself to you! He adored you! He LOVED you! He lavished attention on you...when you LET him. God. The utter amount of anger I have for you right now is ridiculous. True, D wasn't the BEST husband. He was emotional. He raised his voice. But from talking to him, the number of times he was with other women, I could count on both hands. For you, I'd need at LEAST two more hands.
It may be a day or so before I decide whether I can talk to you or not, but I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress, so I'm sure I will. You just need to realize that it's not about you. It's about the BOTH of you. But it seems like you've forgotten that.
I hope, really and truly, that this is what's best for you. Because I can tell you right now that it's NOT best for D.

E.
 
Dear Gizz,

You come in every night after work and give me a kiss, and crawl in bed with me whether I wake up fully or not. You give me a hug and a hell of a feel when I leave for work in the morning. You hold me when I'm angry, sad, or scared, and you chase away the demons that currently haunt me at night. You help me with the housework, even though your schedule is far more grueling than mine.

I sometimes feel like I don't return all of the wonderful things you do for me, but I do hope you know that I love you with all my heart, with everything that I am. *Nothing* will change that.

Love always,
Me

:rose:
 
Dear Cat(s),

Perhaps if you'd chew up that cat food instead of just gulping it down whole, you wouldn't be quite so inclined to vomit it back up on the middle of the stairs.

Sincerely,

Your owner
(The one with the (almost) very icky stocking feet)
 
Dear Cat(s),

Perhaps if you'd chew up that cat food instead of just gulping it down whole, you wouldn't be quite so inclined to vomit it back up on the middle of the stairs.

Sincerely,

Your owner
(The one with the (almost) very icky stocking feet)

We have the same problem with one of our cats.

A :rose: for sympathy.
 
Dear teacher who teaches 5th hour in my classroom,

Seriously. It's not that much to ask that your class not leave my classroom in complete disarray. I cannot be expected to straighten every single fucking desk every day before 6th hour starts. You could just ask your students to do it, but you don't.

Similarly, you could ask your students to keep their fucking hands off my calculators, tardy cards and similar paraphernalia that I need to still be in order when I return to teach 6th hour in my room. It would also be lovely if there wasn't a mess of chips and candy and puddles of pop on the floor every fucking day. The room looks like it was hit by a tornado.

I asked you to pay some attention to this, but your only reply was that "it happens". No shit it happens. You're supposed to at least try to get it to stop happening. You're too fucking lazy to manage your own class, and it's bothering me. My bunch of kids are supposed to be much worse than yours, yet I have a relatively firm grip on what they do under my supervision. I get the feeling that you don't care because it's not your shit, but you'd raise hell and high water if I ever hinted in that direction.

Really though, is it so much to ask that you at least unplug the overhead projector and return it to its original position after you're finished using it? Could you also pull the screen back up? Is it that fucking much to ask that you leave things the way you found them? In case you weren't aware, I need to be ready to start teaching right as the bell rings, and I don't have half an hour to spend to clean up after you every day. My 6th hour students are grossed out as they enter the room, and so am I.

I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but you suck at classroom management as well as basic politeness.

Regards,

Mrs B.
 
Dear X,

If you only knew how very tempted I am. Your mind fascinates me, and you seduce me with honeyed words, and witty tales.

Damn....

Cloudy
 
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