What? Letters? Huh? What the hell is she talking about now?

by Eman


I was just imagining what it would be like to take a fresh piece of paper and a sturdy black pen and write letters to everyone I know, just confess to them what I think about them and clear my conscience of everything. Then I realized that no one uses pens and papers anymore and I shook my head and mumbled, “I’m getting old,” even though I just turned nineteen and opened a fresh page on the text editor.
I’m not really going to confess anything here, I’m not insane (well not clinically at least). That would be too liberating and I’d step on more than a few toes. But think about it, we try to tell ourselves, and everybody who would listen, that we define ourselves and that nobody is to judge us, but we all know that that’s not completely true. We are defined as much by the people we know than by anything else. Everyone you have met in your life has had an impact in shaping the person you are today, be they important people like your parents or people you never really noticed like your elementary school janitor. Our interactions with those people have molded our outlooks and how we handled those interactions can foretell how we will handle future interactions.
What I’m trying to say here is that if I ever sat down and wrote those letters on a typewriter or a stone slab or whatever kids are using these days, I’d basically be writing down a long list of reasons why I did and do the things I do. That one tiff I had with my best friend might have blown over but the way we both handled it could have changed our relationship for ever (and consequently led to me becoming a serial killer. Or Hitler).
At the same time it would be interesting to think about what you’d say in those letters, would you remember the good times or the bad? I’ve known quite a lot of good people with whom I had great times and regarded as being very close friends before they ended up screwing me over. I don’t think I’d really focus on those good times as much as the bad (e.g. “YOU !@#$%ING #&(#%!!! I HATE YOU AND I WISH I NEVER MET YOU! I WILL BE LAUGHING AT YOUR FUNERAL!! HA HA! I’M PRACTICING ALREADY!!!!! I WISH YOU SUFFOCATE IN A PILE OF COW DUNG WHILE HAVING YOUR EYES PECKED OUT BY BLIND WOODPECKERS UNDER THE HOT JULY SUN YOU #%$&(_#%@ OF A #$%&(@ IN A @#$#(_$&&!!! Oh and thanks for the good times, you can keep my DVDs) which is unfair.
I don’t know what I’m talking about, perhaps I’m just rambling. It’s 6am and I haven’t slept yet. I haven’t slept in a very long time. I sleep 3 hours after dawn and 3 hours after dusk. I don’t know what sort of alien sleeping habits I’ve adopted but I don’t like them very much. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow afternoon and delete this, Maybe not. Dun dun dun…

P.S. I feel so sorry for myself way too often and I keep thinking: well what about me? I have issues too! I work too hard! But then I realize I’m being selfish, and good people don’t put their needs in front of others, and I’m trying to be a good person. Or at least a better person than I was. And so you have to let a couple of the spontaneous outbursts slide because I’m new at this good thing and I can’t be good all the time.