A LETTER OF MY OWN
Dear Dr. S's rejected Fear,
Why have you come here? I mean, I know you had to go somewhere now that you have been sent away; you are hungry, I get it, but why here? I was sitting here minding my own business – whatever that was – making plans, preparing new things, and then you show up. You perch; I know it. You are somewhere in the far-left corner no matter where I turn or try to hide.
But still, wasn't the flight from C________ to E________ a bit of a bother just to find me. We all know that I have more than enough fears of my own: insects, crowds, heights, the grass. Was it really necessary to pile yourself on?
I suppose you feed on the already susceptible; it is easier that way, but really it just seems so impolite. I don't need your excuses for not trying right now; motivation is already difficult enough as it is. And earplugs don't work; they never really have for me [I prefer to work with noise], but somehow your insidious voice just keeps working its way in. You know what? You are simply a complete bastard.
There. I said it. I do not like you, but that doesn't seem to matter to you. You relish the lack of invitation, the intrusion into my progress, don't you? The more I resist, the quieter your whispers get, leaving my protestations sounding hollow, echoing over your reminders.
Obviously I don't want you to go back to where you came from; I applaud Dr. S for evicting you, but this place was supposed to help me get away from you. I did not travel three thousand, two hundred and thirty-seven miles just to end up with you, especially since I have previously known your cousins so well.
So, I am writing to you to ask a small favor. Find somewhere else to perch for a while; just give me these few months alone. I am sure you can figure out my address back home; hell you found me here. Just wait there until I get back; I'll meet you in February if I must.
Hopefully yours,
Me
Why have you come here? I mean, I know you had to go somewhere now that you have been sent away; you are hungry, I get it, but why here? I was sitting here minding my own business – whatever that was – making plans, preparing new things, and then you show up. You perch; I know it. You are somewhere in the far-left corner no matter where I turn or try to hide.
But still, wasn't the flight from C________ to E________ a bit of a bother just to find me. We all know that I have more than enough fears of my own: insects, crowds, heights, the grass. Was it really necessary to pile yourself on?
I suppose you feed on the already susceptible; it is easier that way, but really it just seems so impolite. I don't need your excuses for not trying right now; motivation is already difficult enough as it is. And earplugs don't work; they never really have for me [I prefer to work with noise], but somehow your insidious voice just keeps working its way in. You know what? You are simply a complete bastard.
There. I said it. I do not like you, but that doesn't seem to matter to you. You relish the lack of invitation, the intrusion into my progress, don't you? The more I resist, the quieter your whispers get, leaving my protestations sounding hollow, echoing over your reminders.
Obviously I don't want you to go back to where you came from; I applaud Dr. S for evicting you, but this place was supposed to help me get away from you. I did not travel three thousand, two hundred and thirty-seven miles just to end up with you, especially since I have previously known your cousins so well.
So, I am writing to you to ask a small favor. Find somewhere else to perch for a while; just give me these few months alone. I am sure you can figure out my address back home; hell you found me here. Just wait there until I get back; I'll meet you in February if I must.
Hopefully yours,
Me
1 Comments:
Yeah, I'll second that on my friend's behalf: just because I told you to get the hell out of here doesn't mean you were supposed to go bother the people I love. When I said fuck off, I meant fuck off and leave us *all* alone, you useless conniving bastard.
(You can do it, my friend! You can!)
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