Dear X

[Tallulah82]

Dear self,

It's not you, it's them. Not always, don't be getting cocky and shit. But on this occasion (and that one that just keeps niggling), it was nothing you did.

People be weird and no matter how gentle you are with them, they sometimes need a frying pan in the face.

Shine on, you crazy wanker.

 

[jeff_is_smiling]

Dear self,

It's not you, it's them. Not always, don't be getting cocky and shit. But on this occasion (and that one that just keeps niggling), it was nothing you did.

People be weird and no matter how gentle you are with them, they sometimes need a frying pan in the face.

Shine on, you crazy wanker.

My mental image...

 

[JustAnotherFlower]

Dear Poet/Tyler Knott Gregson,

There is such a disconnect in the beauty of your words, their depth of emotion, and the monotone.. disinterested way in which you read them aloud. Your voice is pleasant enough, but where is the nuance of emotions?! It's a touch maddening.. but I started this and shall finish listening to this book before moving on.

Dissatisfied Listener/Reader

 

[candytitties000]

dear mullet man,
i think about you all the time...i regret not taking the chance when we had one and i hope that maybe we cross paths and can still have at least one night together...

 

[LaisDeMarieDeFrance]

Dear jerk landlord,
If you give us a bad reference I hope you get your own special corner in hell.
Signed,
You can shove the leaves up your ass.

 

[JustAnotherFlower]

Dearest pillow,

You cradle me in your embrace each night, calling forth fairies to dance within my curls.

But never do I give you the credit you deserve... for never do I say, "thank you," while gently rubbing my cheek against your 100% cotton casing. It's always another's name being moaned into your embrace, depending upon your softness to quiet the cries.

Thank you...and don't get jealous. I still sleep with you every night.

Me.

 

[NeonSubtlety]

Dear chipotle,

For 10 years, I’ve had to listen to my mother mispronounce your name. I wish I could say that it was a singular misunderstanding. The most common version, of course, is pronouncing it chip-ol-tay. That napoleon dynamite shit would be fine.

But there were a few months of chip-ot-al.

and I still think she’d be going full glottal-stop on the first syllable if her Korean-war-era mouth muscles hadn’t felt overtaxed with trying to roll every consonant in the word.

This is just my humble request to rename your establishment the burrito barn…to save my mother the embarrassment of trying to pronounce your shit once a month.