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Dear You, *blush* I'm going to go all Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer here. We should have a pillow fight in our underwear or something. (Please know that I'm kidding, and what I actually mean.) Dear the most kick-ass in-laws in creation, NEXT TIME YOU SHARE! Kidding again, lame Family Guy reference, I know, but hopefully it brought a laugh, and not the opposite reaction. Much Love, |
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Those first few months were definitely the hardest. Every night, Liesel would nightmare. Her brother's face. Staring at the floor. She would wake up swimming in her bed, screaming, and drowning in the flood of sheets. On the other side of the room, the bed that was meant for her brother floated boatlike in the darkness. Slowly, with the arrival of consciousness, it sank, seemingly into the floor. This vision didn't help matters, and it would usually be quite a while before the screaming stopped. Possibly the only good to come out of these nightmares was that it brought Hans Hubermann, her new papa, into the room, to soothe her, to love her. He came in every night and sat with her. The first couple of times, he simply stayed--a stranger to kill the aloneness. A few nights after that, he whispered, "Shhh, I'm here, it's all right." After three weeks, he held her. Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness. The girl knew from the outset that Hans Hubermann would always appear midscream, and he would not leave. IN THE DICTIONARY Not leaving: an act of trust and love, often deciphered by children The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
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Dear Dad, Not writing anything in that Christmas card was colder than not sending one at all. I wish you'd realize what you do to yourself. Unfortunately, you raised your children right - we stick together. So, when will you realize that when you hurt one of your children, you hurt them all? Your other daughter awaits her apology, and I can guarantee she'd welcome you with open arms if you'd only say you were sorry and promise not to let your wife meddle in our affairs and criticize our mother ever again. I, however, am not so good at forgiving, and I am even worse at forgetting. Sincerely, Your Eldest |
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 ( and five )
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![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} i_hope_thatFor many of us, the holidays can be kind of rough. If you're searching for a network of understanding friends, this ultra-nurturing community encourages you to express your heartfelt wishes and offer other members encouragement and acceptance. Not for the terminally snarky or emotionally-challenged, this is a good-spirited place to lend comfort and support. |
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diygifts Feeling crafty? If you've got a few last folks on your holiday gift list, this is a great place to seed your creativity and generosity. You'll also discover wonderful DIY tips to decorate your home and entertain guests. Offering a no-frills-no-skills attitude that welcomes the cash-challenged and arts-phobic, you're sure to get ideas and make friends in the process. |
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cooking_club A fun and friendly community dedicated to those who love to cook, whether you're a meat-and-potatoes type, an aspiring gourmand, and/or a vegan. In search of a brilliant dish to use up those weekly leftovers? Post your ingredients and you'll be whipping up a feast by dinner. You can also share favorite recipes. For Type A chefs, you can spice up your culinary repertoire with exciting cooking challenges. |
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Weren't we all crazy in our sleep? What was sleep, after all, but the process by which we dumped our insanity into a dark subconscious pit and came out on the other side ready to eat cereal instead of the neighbor's children? Darkly Dreaming Dexter, Jeff Lindsay |
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Dear you, You probably picked the best fucking time in the world to leave me. Now you don't have to deal with or even think about all the "awesome" things happening in my life. Like how dad just put his bank account into an 800 negative balance and won't get paid for like two weeks. So yeah, we're pretty fucking screwed. He's gonna try to borrow money against my car. So from now on both my home and car will be in danger. Who knows, i could be living in a cardboard box by next week at this point. But at least now you don't have to deal with it. Thanks for bailing on me right before I needed you most in life. You're not grown up or more mature than everyone else like you think. A mature person doesn't just throw away what we had. A mature person doesn't expect she can just treat someone like shit, leave them, break their heart and then expect to be friends like it never happened. You're more immature now than you've ever been, and the way you act just makes you come off as a stuck up ass. I don't know why I'm even bothering to write this. You're so beyond me at this point. You were way beyond me the moment you decided you didn't love me anymore and that I wasn't worth trying to love. You called it a hissy fit, but the fact is I really do wish we'd never met. I wish I hadn't spent several years of my life loving you, taking care of you, and helping you overcome depression. How many other people tried to help you with any of it? Last time I checked the only help anyone offered you was calling you a dumbfuck and yelling at you, cuz that helps so much. Merry F@($l#% Christmas, Me P.S. You broke my heart and treat me like dirt now. Guess what? You SHOULD feel guilty. |
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dear driving instructor: thank-you for having faith in me and passing me on my driving test today. you have boosted my confidence a bit and i feel awesome. thank-you so much. : ) |
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Dear "Friend", What did I do to deserve this? It seems like everywhere I go, every time I think that I may just be okay, I'm hit with either a rush of resentment (and/or other angry/irritated emotion), or everything grinds to a complete halt before it even begins. It seems that you seem to enjoy making me look like a fool, and motivating everyone to hate on me. When I'm standing in the kitchen and you guys are downstairs in that little alcove area, I can hear you. Why the hell would I be a poor-sport, a coward, ect.? I wasn't even hanging around with you guys! I'm always on the outside looking in, as none of you want anything to do with me. It's like a big, giant hypocritical circle, and I'm bloody sick of it. Plus, the fact that you got my cousin to say things about me really made me angry. I know that I'm a little more solitary than everyone else, and that E probably hates my guts anyways, but I have enough problems with my family. Of course, you would know everything about that, wouldn't you? My parents love you a lot more than they love me. I was actually looking forward to today, and you ruined it. Much disdain, me. - - - Dear Mother, I don't want to see you. I don't want to even talk to you. Every time I have a "visit" with you, I come out of it more angry and confused than before. I swear to god, once you start talking you drive around in circles for hours before we even start towards our destination. You need help, and you need to get over what happened in this house. You're stronger than this... or you were once. No love, me. - - - Dear Step-mum (to be), I do not need to know about you and my dad's sex life. Just hearing about it makes me want to vomit. Bragging about your bedroom exploits doesn't add to my respect for you, it just makes me not want to talk to you for two weeks. Again. Me. - - - Dear E, Just because you don't think something is funny, doesn't mean other people have to bend the same way. I really resent you sometimes - you act so fucking condescending, like I'm some kind of stupid child that doesn't know anything. Well, you know what, I'll like what I want to, and I will do what I want. There's nothing you can do about that, no matter how much of a drama queen you are. Part of me is looking forward to the day you get on that plane and fly back to NB. Ticked, me.
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Unrequited love, at that period of my life, the only kind I seemed capable of feeling. This caused me much pain, but in retrospect I had to see the advantages. It provided all the emotional jolts of the other kind without any of the risks, it did not interfere with my life, which, although meager, was mine and predictable, and it involved no decisions. In the world of stark physical reality it might call for the removal of my ill-fitting garments (in the dark or the bathroom, if possible: no woman wants a man to see her safety pins), but it left undisturbed metaphysical counterparts. My Plutonic vision of myself resembled an Egyptian mummy, a mysteriously wrapped object that might or might not fall into dust if uncovered. But unrequited love demanded no stripteases. |
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I loved you. I was a pentapod monster, but I loved you. I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t'aimais, je t'aimais. |
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Nobody ever complained? Girls were kind. No one ever told him, I could barely stay awake. If only you'd come faster, I could have ignored it altogether. Girls were born knowing how destructive the truth could be. They learned to hold it in, tamp it down, like gunpowder in an old fashioned gun. Then it exploded in your face, on a November day in the rain. |
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Beauty was deceptive. I would rather wear my pain, my ugliness. I was torn and stitched. I was a strip mine, and they would just have to look. I hoped I made them sick. I hoped they saw me in their dreams. |
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cold
okay
annoyed