Dear Self

Dear Past Jacqui,

It has come to my attention that you seem to enjoy watching very sad movies while you’re home alone, late at nights.  Ordinarily, this would be perfectly acceptable, as a single solitary tear escaping while watching the latest tear-jerking, heart-wrenching storyline will neither harm nor influence the community as a whole.  I would feel foolish bringing this up in conversation, as every person on earth is entitled to have a heartstring, and that heartstring may well be plucked from time to time.  However Jacqui, your little habbit has escalated.

What was once a solitary tear, is now buckets of splashy tears.
What started out as a heart-felt sigh is now a full twenty minute shoulder-heaving sob.
It started with a solitary tissue, has now ended up being a small mountain of snotty, tear soaked Kleenex.

It’s now to the stage where your loyal hound is so worried about your uncontrolled hiccuping sobs, that he places his trusting little head on your lap to lend you his strength.  He’s worried about your mental health, as are so many others.  Why do you persist in watching films such as The Book Thief, Red Dog and Heart of an Empire when you know you’re going to end up crying until your aching chest feels hollow?  They only reason you’ve stopped crying is simply because your body is so dehydrated that you are, quite literally, drained.  Drained of emotion, certainly, but drained of all fluids as well.  Your body has ejected all spare fluids through your weeping eyeballs in a merry game of CRY YOURSELF INTO A COMA.

All I can say is Stop it.  Stop it right the fuck now.

Future Jacqui


The only thing worse than a boy who hates you,
is a boy who loves you.

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