Dear Powers That Be:
I have heard a rumor that if you would like your life to change, you must do something about it yourself. For instance, a person who might be intrigued to find herself working a new job might actually have to send out her résumé. A writer who wants to be published has to contact agents and publishers, no matter how long it takes.
My question to you is, have you ever considered changing the order of events? For instance, I am here, easily findable, just try Google. Might an opportunity fall into my lap?
I will practice sitting, waiting for the drop.
Awaiting your reply,
* * *
Dear Mean People:
It has been said—by my mother, and now by my husband—that I might be a little sensitive. Hyper-sensitive, maybe? Easily shattered? A big giant baby? Choose your words carefully because I will remember them and maybe one day, one day when I have it a little more together, I’ll get you back.
For instance, if I ask for “organic costa rican coffee beans” and there are no “organic costa rican coffee beans” but there are “costa rican coffee beans” you do not have to snap at me about what I can or can’t have, you can just understand that I might be confused and explain the difference.
Fact is, I have a little box in which I keep insults. If you’ve done something to me, said something behind my back at work perhaps and I found out about it, don’t think I’ve forgotten. I keep it in the box. One day the wrong person might see it, and who will be the big giant baby then?
And if that is not reason enough to stop being mean to me, know this: I am going to learn jiu jitsu.
* * *
Dear Fake People:
I think you’re mean, too.
* * *
Dear Short Stories in My Head:
I have great affection for you, all the stories that have yet to be written, every single one of you. I love you all: the pretty ones with the glossy opening paragraphs, the lumpy ones with the fat guts, the ones shot up with holes, the old creaky ones with the still-beating hearts.
Please stick around. Please be patient with me. I’ll get you all written.
* * *
Dear Post Office:
I am on my way to see you. I’m bringing an important envelope, which I will seal and stamp and slip into your slot within mere minutes, an envelope I have labored over, an envelope that holds a little piece of my heart.
Treat it well, Post Office. Don’t let it get mutilated, or lost. I am trusting you with my life.
Oh, and please keep making those superhero stamps.