Letters to a bed and more.

Dear The Dark Knight,

Ho lord. I didn’t expect you to be what you were – first of all, every time I thought you were close to ending, I discovered I was very very wrong. The acting was phenomenal, yes, yes, yes, and I’m still kind of reeling from everything that happened during the film. At one point, I thought the world could be exploding outside and no one inside the theater would notice because it was just that intense.

Mr. Nolan, I raise my glass to you.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear GDB,

Sometimes, I wish there was a way of figuring out how to do this long distance without losing each other. As it is, we’ve changed the dynamics of our relationship so dramatically, simply because we’ve hit that plateau – the one where someone has to move for us to move forward, but neither of us are in a place to do so. So we took steps, sideways, to save us, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say a huge part of me wishes we would just get a fair shake again. To be in the same place, to be able to be together like we’ve been wanting to, and to know if this is really what is meant to be.

I was watching tv earlier and a character said that you know you’re in it for the long haul if you’re willing to stick it out through the roughest parts. It’s been a roller-coaster ride, and my latest revelations are no picnic in the park. But you’re still checking in on me, making sure I’m okay, and that’s more than I could have ever asked you to do as a friend. Perhaps someday, we’ll be able to step forward again.

In the meantime, I’m glad you’re still into me, good times and bad. Whatever happens, as anything can happen, you’ve done more for me than I could have ever expected.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Prozac,

You might have mentioned that some Pepto Bismol would be in good favor. Every time I felt like my stomach wanted to explode, I could have done with a few people singing on stage in costume -  “Nausea-heartburn-indigestion! Upset stomach – diarrhea!” Somehow, methinks it would all be so much more tolerable with a big logger clutching at his stomach in sympathy pains.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear John Dorian,

Every time you go off into your little fantasy worlds, I shake my head and laugh. And then I think, “But I do that too.” Were you not a fictional character at a fictional hospital, I would so jump you. As for you, Zach Braff, I’m no Mandy Moore, but I’m pretty sure I can more than make up for it with my spectacular breasticles.

Give me a ring some time. I am in the Garden State and all…

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear new job,

I’m not entirely sure why, but you scare the wits out of me. Maybe it’s because I have to be so social and sometimes, being social drains everything out of me. I haven’t started you yet, and while I still have mixed feelings about you, I’m hoping maybe you encourage me to move forward and do something new with my days. It’s strange how everything has flip-flopped so much in such a short while.

Here’s hoping you’re a positive thing.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Stephenie Meyers,

I am very pleased with your latest book. I will admit, for a while, you had me going “What the fuck?!” as I read, and sure, there are a few things that I need to re-read to be clear on. But I hunkered down for five and a half hours on Saturday afternoon to complete “Breaking Dawn” and though my stepdad popped in every hour to check on what page I was at now due to my super sonic speed reading skills, by the close of it I felt quite satisfied and ready to read it again.

Thank you for making Bella, Jacob, and Edward part of my literary vocabulary.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Depression,

I find it a little unnerving how you’re so skilled at rendering my life boring and inane. There are moments where I think things are inherently funny, and then by the time I come home, it seems like a joke from a time long ago. I’ve become a consumer, but not so much a creator, and I miss the days of being creative, reflective, and interesting. You make me feel as though I have nothing worth saying anymore, and I think that’s the part that hits the hardest. Because I miss that part of me, of feeling as though I was meant to write, to tell stories, to share my particular take on the world. And instead, all I feel I can do anymore is share my take on depression. I hate that you can so effectively overshadow everything else – though I may feel happy, ultimately, I still feel pointless. I can’t wait for the day when I get to be me again.

In the meantime, I’m doing my best to defeat you.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Mamma Mia,

Why didn’t you come with a warning sign? “Caution: May overwhelm and leave viewer in shock.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry half the time, and I think I stared at the screen in horror more than a few times. You, my friend, are meant to be viewed at home when I can pause when it gets to be too much for me. Much like Hard Candy which scared the shit out of me several years back. Though fortunately, you had no castration scenes. *shudders*

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear readers

Jack of all Trades and I were debating whether or not audiotapes can be literate. For me, the definition of being literate is being able to read – listening is not necessarily reading. Jack of all Trades’ argument is that audiotapes can provide just as much contextual clues and inferences as reading, especially for an individual who is blind, therefore it is indeed literate.

This may be also related to my thesis. Discuss.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear bed,

I know it’s been about a year since we’ve last seen each other. The last time I slept in you properly was when I still lived in Brooklyn, right before I moved to California. It seems fitting that exactly a year after I put you in storage, I reintroduced you to the world. Your platform stylings mixed with my oh-so-soft mattress that should have been almost a thousand dollars more than it was somehow make the world seem right again. Paired with my favorite comforter and teddy bear (and yes, I am 24 and still sleep with a teddy bear), it’s a win-win situation.

Having you back makes me happy. Being able to sleep in you again makes me ecstatic. My cats agree wholeheartedly.

Yours in sleepness,

distracted spunk