There are many letters I want to send to many people. I want to send one to myself.
The ones I want to send to others might fall along the lines of:
- "Hello, I'd very much love and be honoured to be a friend of yours." Or,
- "Hey, please don't think that about me. Are you afraid of me? I'm not that obnoxious. Give me a chance to reinvent myself; a clean slate upon which I get to decide who I want to be. Do you think you could ever see at me in a different light?"
But the one I want to send to myself... Well, it just makes wonder how I got to this. Anyhow, this is an open letter to Vivien.
Dear Self,
I loathe you. You are such a big disappointment, and nobody notices except me. I don't understand. You wanted so much, had such high hopes - they all seemed for certain, yet you have achieved so little, and do you know why? I'm sure you know why. You've broken every promise you've ever made to me. It's just not fair. How can you have a mind that is so capable of completing such simple tasks, yet a body that is compelled to defy everything that I want for you.
I don't understand. You're still as unfit as ever, you remain unemployable, you've yet to secure a single leadership position, and I can't even begin to express the extent to which your work ethic disgusts me. You've neglected your music, and I hate you. You're about as dull as a fish; as likable as a cow.
You're about as likable as a cow. You're obnoxiously loud, outspoken, and opinionated. Nobody notices that you loathe yourself because I don't even know if you have friends of your own. You have Zac, but only god knows why he likes you, because I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I wish you would just do as I say.
Nowadays, It's almost as if you're incapable of letting anyone near to you; incapable of seeing past what you dislike in each person to have any close friends. Why do you have to keep everyone at a distance? What is wrong with you? You don't even know where you stand in life yet. 15 years, Vivien. You don't fit in anywhere, and I can't even figure out why. You've minimal hobbies, likes and dislikes - perhaps it is just easier to live life as a stereotype. I believe they come with templates of what one will enjoy as that sort of person, and how one should act and think.
What happened to you? Has the internet really taken you away? Are you that obsessed with the hope of feedback you might get from your little status updates? That little bit of human interaction in the guise of momentary popularity?
I feel so lonely, and I hate you. It's all your fault. You could be so happy, but instead you just choose to ignore whatever I ask of you. Is it so difficult to avoid procrastination? No, don't do it later - do it NOW. Similar to how I hate you NOW. Just stop fucking around. I'm sick of your shit.
NB: Don't worry. I'm not going to kill myself, but yes, these are real thoughts. Procrastinating ruined my life.
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