Dear Room

Dear Pictures on the Wall, don't ever stop moving as I'm trying to fall asleep.

Dear Teddy Bears and Dolls, don't ever stop singing to me when I fall asleep.

Dear Loose Papers, don't ever stop folding yourself up into intricate planes and flying around the room when my back is turned.

Dear Bed, don't ever feel sad when I leave you in the morning. I'll always come back to you.

Dear Books, don't ever get discouraged when I put you down or finish reading to you. I'll read you again some day.

Dear Room, good bye.

Dear Pervert

Dear Pervert,

Today I finally realized what happened.

I'd take a chainsaw to your neck if you weren't already in prison.

Oh, and the people who threw the rocks through your window? I know who did it. I wish they had hit you.

Dear People At The Church Full of Rich People

Dear People At The Church Full of Rich People,

I'm poor, you're not.

I get my clothes and shoes at Good Will and other thrift stores and sometimes Wal-Mart.

You can tell I'm poor by the way I dress.

I found it extremely embarrassing when one of you came up to me and said, while pointing to my boots, "Hey, you have great taste. Doc Martins are just fantastic."

You saw the embarrassed look on my face as I said, "Oh, these aren't Doc Martins. I got these at Wal-Mart. I can't afford Doc Martins."

And you're reply, which was filled with shock, embarrassment and a fake laugh just made me feel worse. "Oh don't worry. I can't afford them either. That's why my wife buys them for me! ..... Heh.... Hehe...."

Yes, you can afford them. It's not just your wife with money. Please don't try to make it look that way.

Dear Bob Dylan,

Dear Bob Dylan,

Y U NO PREFORM IN DELAWARE?

Sincerely, Kelly.

Dear New Follower

You're my only one. Thank you.

Looks like I have a reason to keep up this blog no. :3

Dear Summer

Dear Summer,

I can hear the kids outside playing. They're running barefoot on the hot, black street. They're playing games I played and some they've just made up. They're talking about people they like and food they don't and how to pick the lock on their big sisters diary.

I want to go back.
Back when I could actually go barefoot on the streets.
Back when Pokemon was the meaning of life and kids judged they're life's quality on how much Pokemon merchandise they owned.
Back when I didn't care if I always lost a bike race with the boy and girl who lived next door.
Back when girls fought over who would be Bubbles when we played PowerPuff Girls.

The kids are now riding their bikes around the street. I remember when we would ride ours around the entire trailer park. That was before we knew we had child molesters and killers living here. I miss how I looked at the world back then. It was innocent. It was beautiful. The at the time the worst thing we could imagine happening was the ice cream truck passing us by as we waved our dollars in the air.

Dear Summer, keep them safe. Don't let them become corrupt like we did. Let them stay as innocent and sweet as possible for as long as possible. We grew up to be horrible people but don't let that happen to them. Spare them.

Dear Little Boy Who No One Likes

Dear Little Boy Who No One Likes,

I know you're only about 5-years-old but there's a reason your neighbors complain. Your constant screaming when you don't get your way drives us all insane. We hear you day to day screaming your lungs out and for what? Your cousin isn't giving you a turn with the ball? Big woop. You have a few more lying around the yard. Use one of them.

Also, don't ever aim your giant nerf gun at my little dog. He's too little to be taking a hit from a foam bullet that flies out faster than any toy bullet should.