My Open Letter To Life

20 Aug

I recently saw a post on my reader that talked about “open letters”. The purpose of an open letter is to let go of old demons, establish closure and talk about your problems with yourself. You can write open letters on many different mediums (blogs, facebook posts, ‘ol paper and pencil, smoke signals, etc.) and they can prove to be very effective. I’ve read quite a few in my life and I have to say they can be extremely powerful things. Many people criticize the The Art of the Open Letter and deem it as a way to gain attention (AKA what most people in my generation label as “thirsty”).

I’m generally not a very emotional person, to be honest. I prefer to mask emotions with two things; laughter or awkwardness. Who doesn’t like laughter? I learned at a very early age that it’s never okay to cry to show weakness, laugh it off and keep that shit rolling.

“The best comedians are those with the most messed up life”

So i’m going a little unorthodox in the general style of the ‘ol blog and NOT write a list, bullet points or anything organized in the least. I try not to complain about life and the things it shoves at me very often, but everyone needs to let go once in awhile. So heads up to those reading, this is going to be about ME. If you don’t like reading about pity parties, sob stories or emotions, this is NOT the post for you. If you go to my home page, you’ll find some really great cat pictures somewhere in various posts. To those of you who are not pro open-letter:Go roll a joint full of rat poisoning and smoke it. Make some meth cookies while your at it. Your opinion is irrelevant to my life. So, here it goes. This, is my open letter to life.

Dear Life,

I’ve never quite understood “you”. I put “you” lightly because I don’t exactly know what “you” are. Are you a person? Who is your mom? We all have moms. Well, some of us don’t. Dear life, why do you take away some peoples moms? It really sucks to say the least. No one deserves to have their mom taken away. Its hard to watch someone you love go through that. What did they ever do to you to have their mom taken away? That my friend, is a really mean thing you sick bastard. Let’s take away your mom and see how you like it. But we (I say “we” loosely because I’m pretty sure I stand alone on this subject matter) can’t take away you mom but we have morals. Dear life, what did I do to you to hate me? Did I shit in your cereal? Did I steal your toy at recess? I’ve always tried to be a nice person but god damn (god is a whole different story…sorry god), you make things really difficult. I’ve become great at wearing masks and painting pictures of perfect scenarios that fly through my head. I laugh things off because crying would be out of the question. What else was little me supposed to do? My life wasn’t supposed to end up like this; I was supposed to be a normal child who acts like the rest of them. Perfect mind, perfect body and a pure soul. People tell me I have an “old soul”. Whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean, I just hope it doesn’t mean my soul is wrinkly. Gross.

I was standing in the elevator and I got to bring a friend. Half the kids laughed because only the “special kids” took the elevator and half the kids were enamored with the fact I was riding the elevator. Wait, was it bad to be “special”? I thought everyone is special? Am I not special enough or am I TOO special? I got these pills and these shots, cool physical therapy doctors and some stretchy band. I guess only the “special” kids got them. Am I flawed? Is it wrong to be the way I am? It kind of sucks. I dislocated my finger trying my shoe, my elbow popped out of place when I reached back to turn off the shower and I wear slippers to school because my feet hurt too bad to wear shoes. I take these shots. They’re supposed to not make me sick but in all reality I puke, lose my hair and can’t be near pregnant people. That’s cool. Nothing got better, nothing gets better and I’m still “special”. Life, I’ve been around for a good chunk of time and I decided to give up on the shots and pills and stretchy bands. You know why that sucks life? Because I don’t know what’s gonna happen next.

Freshman year is a scary time. A really scary time. Armpits smell weird, vaginas are a hot commodity and wearing floss up your ass is totally a social norm. I was scared, I was confused and I clung to whatever could get me through the scary time. Life, you were throwing a lot of stuff at me. Life, you made my sister sick and almost let her die. Taking away a cat, is a bitch move. Taking away someone’s mom is unbearable but trying to take away someone’s sister? Now that’s just a straight up dick move. Don’t do that again, kay thanks. Do you know what else is mean? Taking something away that shouldn’t be taken away. Life, letting something like that slide is not cool. But do you know what life? It’s okay, I took the blame for things you should have stopped. I still suffer the consequences of what you did every single day and you don’t even care. Life, you changed me for forever and I’ll probably never forgive you for that. Thanks for keeping my sister though, that was pretty nice of you I have to admit. Life, freshman year was a scary time and I’m still mad at you that you didn’t help me.

Music is cool. What kind of music do you like, life? I love music. I want to teach people music. That’s what I wanna be when I grow up, life. I want to be a music teacher. Teachers are really strange people, ya know? Do you think I will end up like one of them? I don’t want to end up wearing knee-length jeans skirts and wreak of coffee breath, no thanks. Life, I had this really cool teacher once. I loved that teacher. Not one of those weird, illegal kinds of love, but a love as in “hey-I-love-you-because-you’re-my-role-model”. Do you know what you did though, life? You let them leave. You let other people bully them out of leaving. Life, I don’t understand why you’re so possessive over your people. Sheesh. Do you know what that did? That left a hole in my life. Have you ever lost a role model, life? Is that why you did it? Did someone leave you? If so, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry actually because I know how much it hurts. But it’s okay life, I found a new role model. I loved them a lot, too. We were close and I trusted them with my life. Life, you would have really liked them. You would have never guessed what happened though! My role model left me, life. My role model hurt me. I cried a lot. I cried in the bathroom, clinging to the dirty floor because I was afraid it was gonna be the last thing I touched. Why did you let that happen life? I cried, I was sad and lost my passion for living. Life, I’m still mad at you because you let me lay on the bathroom floor and cry.

Life, has anyone told you they didn’t like you? Usually I ignore people who say they don’t like me. I was taught that those people aren’t worth your time. You know what is worth your time though, life? Living. Living is most definitely worth it, or else you’d be dead. Has anyone ever told you to die, life? It hurts. It hurts a lot to say the least. There’s moments when you ask yourself if you should listen to those people. Sticks and stones break your bones and hurt, but words stay branded in your brain for life. I remember the first time I was told I wasn’t pretty enough. Boys can’t judge what’s pretty, right? Aren’t boys like, colorblind? I remember the first time called me a degrading name. I listen to those same words in music, but I didn’t think it would happen to me. A bruise hurts, I’ve had those before. Purple, blue and yellow. Then it gets itchy sometimes because it’s “healing”.  When am I gonna feel “itchy”? I’ve waited for the colors to change.. Why did you let that happen, life? Did a boy call you ugly? Did a girl call you ugly? If so, I’m really sorry but it’s not a good excuse to let it happen to me. Life, i’m still mad at you for letting them brand my brain.

I’ve learned to be a really good painter, did I tell you that? I can paint happy, sad, excited, nervous and sometimes even no expression at all. Life, I’ve gotten really good at painting faces. Life, do you wear a mask? Just kidding! That’s a silly question to ask. I’ve never seen you before, so you must wear a whole different mask of your own. Do you paint happy pictures? It doesn’t seem like you do. You paint gray skies, sharp mountains and even lower valleys. You paint little raindrops that form tears, feelings that make themselves into cuts and scrapes and scenarios that turn angry. Do you like that? I think they have words for people like you, but I can’t exactly spell them. So if you’re one of those people, stop. Do you need to borrow a mask ever? I have an extra in my pocket if you’d like to borrow it. I put it on when people laugh at me. My mask has gotten so good at laughing on it’s own, I don’t even have to try anyone. My mask has gotten so routine it doesn’t even come off of my face sometimes. Life, did you glue my mask on my face? If so, it’s not  very funny. No one ever asks me to take off my mask though. I feel like people always ask if my mask is okay with things and my mask lies for me. One of these days life, I’m gonna rip that mask of and say it’s not okay. The mask has become a people pleaser, which is weird because, that’s not who I am? Isn’t that strange, life? I wish people would be considerate of my feelings sometimes. Life, why did you give me  a paintbrush? I don’t think we can be friends anymore life… I’m sorry.

Feelings are really strange things, huh? Do you have feelings life? Wait.. Is that too personal to ask? I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, I hope you’re not going to be mad. Everyone has feelings though, right? Right? Sometimes I wish feelings didn’t exist. Well, then I couldn’t love my cats. Okay, sometimes I wish every feeling besides loving your cat would disappear. Sometimes I lie and say I’m feeling nothing at all. Is it okay to feel for something that doesn’t feel for you back? What if they don’t have feelings at all? I know some hollow people and I don’t know how they live my life. Everyone tells me to stay away from hollow people because they are no good. For some reason I keep on gravitating to all of the hollow people, hoping that feelings will fill up their holes, too. Like a tree, ya know? Life, do you think that can happen to people? Do you think people’s holes will fill up like tree’s fill up with critters? Or like McDonalds fills up with fast food junkies? Life, do you think it could happen? I really wish that would happen. For now I’m going to try to stay away from all of these hollow people. I think I found out why feelings people like hollow people. Hollow people are like those little cubbies from pre-school. I’d put my backpack in the cubby for most of the day until it was time to leave and the cubby wouldn’t feel any sadness. My backpack would feel really sad though. I am like my backpack and hollow people are like the cubbies; I put my backpack in the cubby when I need to and take it out when I have to. I feel sad like my backpack, but the cubby just sits there and acts like a cubby. Do cubbies have feeling, life? I sure hope so, cubbies are so cool. Life, do you have hollow people? I just want to be loved by hollow people. I just want to be loved by hollow people, is that so wrong life? I’m not going to ever understand why you made backpacks and cubbies, life. I’m just not.

Life, I really don’t understand you and I’m not going to ever try. I’m never going to try to forgive you because I should be allowed to be bitter. Is that so wrong, life? Is it so fucking wrong that I’m not laughing off all of your feelings? I don’t want to laugh all of the time, I’m done painting and I’m done waiting for my bruises to turn itchy. Life, you’re always going to be a giant jerk to me and I’m never going to forgive you. Do you know what the funniest thing of this whole thing is? I don’t even know if you’re listening to me life. I can’t even tell if you’re even a real “you”. Life, you can go suck a big one because I’m done trying to be nice to you.

Dear life, you’ve really thrown me through a loop. But you know what? Thank you for making me the wrinkly old soul. Thank you for making me the “special” kid in the elevator. Thank you so much for stealing things away from me. Thank you for letting me cry on the bathroom floor and letting all those kids tell me to die. Thank you for not letting my bruises ever get itchy. Thank you for making me a brilliant painter. Thank you for making me a backpack and letting me find useless cubbies.

Life, thank you giving me inspiration to wrinkle my soul and stay special, cry on the floor and wait for my bruises to get itchy and to someday find another backpack just like me.

Best Wishes,

Bella Schaefer

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2 Responses to “My Open Letter To Life”

  1. MissesC August 20, 2013 at 8:54 am #

    Dear Bella,
    I am sorry for the hurt. Your very soul seemed bruised by pain. But I am happy to see that you are a fighter. Fight and hope that another day will bring you rainbows!

    • bandgeekbella August 20, 2013 at 10:41 am #

      Thank you very much! I will try my hardest!

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