Sunday, January 11, 2004

Dear everything,

I.,
I'm sorry. Really I am. I was trying to be all big and bad on the phone and I forgot to let on that all of it was tearing me up. And the whole time I was talking I wanted you to shut me up and tell me to cut the crap and ask what was really going on with me. But you didn't, because that just isn't how you are.

What's done is done, I suppose.

Some of us just never seem to know any better.

love,
h.



Mama,
Thank you for letting me sob into the phone like I sobbed when I was 14 and convinced no one in the world would ever love me. I realize that tonight's conversation was much like those same ones we had nearly ten years ago. Thanks for not thinking there was anything strange about that, and continuing to love me in the fierce way that only you are capable of.

always,
heather



Dear L'oreal Voluminous Mascara,
I'm well aware that you lengthen and fortify my lashes, but god DAMN could you please not hurt so much when I have an emotionally dramatic night and need to take extended periods of time by myself on the porch for extended smoking/crying fits?

Do you come in waterproof?

Concerned,
A now nearly blind customer



ATTN: The male population of the world.
Notice effective immediately.

Do not call me. I will call you if I have any business (shady or otherwise) to handle with you.

I'm in no condition to be fielding inquiries from horny little boys now fully informed of the fact that I bit the bullet and dumped the boyfriend.

And yes, I mean it.

Sincerely,
Ms. Johnston



Dear week of January 12th:
Please try to be nice to me. Your first day has sucked so thoroughly that I seriously have my doubts as for the rest of you. Try to come through for me, ok?

Thanks,
heather

Heather at 9:30 PM

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