a letter of sorts

dear customer who told me i look good for my age: i am NOT old enough for that compliment

dear winter semester: you're my last, and therefore i refuse to succumb to you. every other semester has dominated my life. not you too.

dear brick oven: i walk past you every monday, wednesday, and friday at noon. you make my forthcoming lunch seem so unappetizing. will you stop filling the air with the delicious aroma of pizza? thank you.

dear room: i finally have you to myself. i love the freedom entitled in allowing you to be messy. i'm sorry for your fate, but i fear you will continue to stand as a monument to "free space" as books mingle with shoes upon the floor.

dear friends: please remember me. remember me as i am, as i was, and as i want to become.

dear winter: you make have taken the sun, but you have not taken my smile.

sincerely,
A