Category: Letters


Dear Unlikely Hero,

I love you.

… Now that that’s out of the way, I can move on with this nonsensical rubbish. For as long as I can remember knowing you, you’ve been there for me. That’s not something I can say for many people. I never understood why I began to crave your attention… And I couldn’t stand it when you were disappointed with me — or rather, with some of the idiotic things I’ve done and said.

Regardless, you took on the role of my personal therapist. I’ve spoken to you about things I didn’t dare tell anyone else. Stranger yet, you’ve listened. You were – and are – open to my ranting and my rambling and my whining. You rarely turned me away, you offered advice, and you’ve challenged my thoughts and fears.

You’ve helped me so much; more than you know. If not for you, I wouldn’t have survived. I know it’s sappy, cliche and over-said, but it’s the honest truth. I’d be somewhere far worse (or I’d not “be” at all, if you catch my drift) if I hadn’t met you.

And I know I probably shouldn’t, but I feel as though I owe you so much more. I have never been able to fathom what you see in me. I know when you read this, you’ll probably tell me I’m being stupid, but it doesn’t change the fact.

I’m shy and timid to the point of being antisocial; I’m oftimes a clumsy dunce;  I’m socially awkward, especially with new people or People-I-Know-But-I’m-Only-Just-Now-Meeting-In-Person; I’m not as pretty as most girls; I’m quiet and not very outgoing at all; I must have the worst sense of humor to ever grace (or curse) a young woman; I don’t think I’m a very “touchy” person – in fact, I may very well be terrified of physical touch; my family is absolutely insane (in good and bad ways, but I can’t help that, can I?); I have a dozen suitcases stuffed with my own issues and fears; I’m needy when it comes to care and attention, but stubborn when it comes to helping me; I have a distinct lack of confidence; I’m an artist and a writer (need I say more?); I suffer from enough anxiety attacks in a single day to last four people half a week; I’m indecisive, and abnormally so; I seem to have a penchant for getting in trouble; I suck at conversations over the phone; I’m fairly volatile and beyond “moody”; I’m dumb enough to pick at all the itty-bitty wrongs with myself; I have a tendency to freak out at the tiniest of frustrations; and I actually wasted your time reading this and my time writing it.

… I’ve utterly forgotten where I was even going with this, now… Oh well. I’m sorry ahead of time for any agitation or facepalming I cause and uh… Yeah.

Sincerely yours and with much embarassment,
Megan 

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Letter to a Toilet

Dear Toilet,

A highly unexpected turn of events led to me sleeping a solid six hours in that bathroom stall… Yeah, it’s sorta gross and a little unhealthy. Sure, I’m only an hour’s walk away from home… But I could barely see straight that day.

And today, a security guard catches me snoozing again. I didn’t really even plan to. My gaze darkened and I couldn’t quite see where I was going, so I thought I’d lay down a moment in your private domain…

… Funny how that worked out.

Let’s not forget all the intimate moments we’ve shared though!

Well, okay, so maybe me regurgitating three meals wasn’t very romantic. I couldn’t help it though. God, I hardly ate, and I didn’t even drink too much that time…

And, uh… How about all the times I’ve been sick and you’ve been there for me?– Oh, who are you to tell me to take care of myself? You’re an inanimate porcelain bowl!

… That I just wrote an entire letter to… oops.

Yours sorta-sincerely,
Megan

Letter to a Platypus

Dear Platypus,

I told you I wouldn’t write this, but then I thought to myself… Well, I never promised.

You’re a friend of mine who is as likely to say “Good Morning” at one in the morning as you are to flash a priest in the middle of a church.

… And that’s very likely (in fact, both have happened). Try to avoid an exorcism, girl.

Stay strong.

Yours sincerely,
Megan

Dear Angel,

I still want to know… Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven? You never told me the answer before you went back home. I miss you, you know. You couldn’t choose to stay, and I understand that… But it doesn’t lessen the pain of having lost you.

You were my first best friend. You kissed away my “boo-boos” and let me mend yours. You held my hand when I was afraid. You assured me that the nurse’s office “wasn’t quite that bad”. You snuck into the boy’s bathroom with me (on a silly dare) and sat through detention with me. You saw me taken away from my family. You hugged me when I returned from the hospital. You knew me when I was still happy; still innocent; still smiling. And you accepted me when I was lost, confused, and quiet.

Thank you, Angel. Rest in peace, and know that I’ll smile for you.

Yours sincerely,
Megan

Letter to a Lobster

Dear Lobster,

This letter is now irrelevant and about transformer owls. The greatest thing in life is a text adventure. Notice: You’re missing your right hand. Mirrors. Doors. Star Stealing Girl. Red Dead Redemption. That one theme that I can never recall for the life of me. Joining me on a writer’s adventure. Doing better than I expected. Complaining about relatives. Finding Kirby in a monocle on your game map. More owls. Monster hamster. Tally Hall. Kitchen utensils. Ruling the world with a spaghetti-bound fist. Gibberish that, to us, somehow makes sense, but at the same time… Doesn’t.

Being able to make me laugh on the worst of days, at the weirdest of moments, and putting up with my occasional whiny rant.

Thank you.

Yours sincerely,
Megan

Letter to a Mountain

Dear Mountain,

You and I have never actually met face-to-face, instead relying upon images and the written word, but I somehow still find you as one of my favorite friendly challenges to interact with. It’s always a pleasure to see you in this imaginary world.

Diligent, pleasant, humorous, sweet, intelligent… I’ve naught but kind words for you, though I can hardly put them down to paper or keyboard. Especially not without appearing all the more creepy than I already am by writing this.

I suppose I just want to thank you for always being around to talk to, Mountain. I’m sorry for some of the nights where I kept you up later than you had wanted with my complaints and sores. I’m lucky to know you, for senseless chatter or priceless advice.

When you get to the top of the mountain, keep climbing.

Yours sincerely,
Megan

Dear Man,

I’d like to personally congratulate you in your endeavors. There are very few as daring as I know you to be. Even less of that number are willing to do what you so professionally started. I’d like to personally congratulate you in your success. You have committed an atrocity that few would dream of ever performing.

You have stolen my innocence.

You have taken away the slim chance I had of blending in. Once upon a time, I would have smiled and laughed at the antics of my friends. After what you did to me, I could not force myself to. Back then, it was a broken smile. The laughter was fake. I did not mean it. Never.

But then I must thank you. Without what happened between us, I would not know myself as well as I do now. I would have never learned how courageous I can be. I would have never discovered that I do, indeed, have a place in life. I would have never learned just how many talents I truly possess.

I want you to know how much I hated you– and how much I still hate you. I want you to know that even if I may forgive you, I cannot and will not forget what occured between us. I want you to know that you should have listened to me when I begged you to leave me alone. I want you to know that someday, you’re going to pay for everything you did to me. You’re going to face judgement for everything you did to my family. MY family. Not yours. Remember that.

Good things come to those who wait.

Yours sincerely,
Megan