An Open Letter To Lovers

Dearest lover,

You’ll have to forgive my amateurish nature; I’m new to such things. How exactly does one go about writing a love letter to a lurker?

Hmmm, maybe with some information about me?

Yes, that seems like a good place to start, and I’m sure the voyeur in you is slightly turned on at the prospect of personal information being shared.

Don’t be ashamed, the feeling is mutual. You see? We’re going to get along fantastically.

So you see, once upon a time, I lived in Chicago, and I watched as Hurricane Katrina ravaged the Gulf Coast.

“I want to go to college in New Orleans!”, I thought.

It was a year after Katrina, and what can I say, I’m like a moth to the flame, right? The city had the sex appeal of a meth addict when I arrived, but by the time I left, New Orleans was back to being her high-class escort self. Our relationship was a volatile one; at times I regretted having anything to do with this cheap whore that reeked of alcohol, other times I knew we were made for each other.

In New Orleans I pursued my (parents’) dreams and followed the pre-med track, where throat-stomping your classmates is simply part of the ‘spirit of competition’ and a legitimate means of altering the class average.

Did I stomp on throats you ask? Well. It was like war, we all did what we had to do—because as we all know, your self worth is determined solely by the grades you get. Am I right?

So, I had my choice of medical schools, chose my school, and decided to defer my seat to participate in the JET Program.

And now I spend my time updating this humble Pillow Blog, before I need to head back to reality...and med school.

Oh, do you think I forgot something? Ask questions to your heart’s content mi amore, for you, I’m an open book. Or perhaps browse through the posts.

I eagerly await your reply.

Yours truly,

Yours Truly