Dec 2016
Dear Magenta,
I hope this letter finds you in better spirits than I. It has only been three days since I was allowed pen and ink. I have spent the last two days trying to decide what it was that I wanted to convey in this message.
Once I decided, I spent most of today locked in my room beginning and destroying this letter.
The floor is littered with scraps of paper, upended preludes.
There is so much to tell you; beginning is near impossible. We will do our best, I suppose.
I want you to know foremost that I have never hated you. I want you to know that I only wanted to see our project to it’s inevitable end. I wanted to be done with you, I wanted you to leave me to my own devices for a while, I wanted to be able to refresh myself and renew my spirit. You, my antagonist, should have allowed it. Alas, you’ve always seemed to be ignorant of my need, or to have other plans altogether.
It is a clever ruse that you have put together. You would speak to me of my own betterment. You would tell me that you were only trying to strengthen my resolve, to make me somehow improved. And how I believed you! How I wanted it to be unfeigned! And, I do wish ever so that your efforts were pure. But, where you see me, you see a buffoon, no doubt!
What a folly you have made.
I am aware of you now. My eyes are open and my mind fairly screams with indignation.
I need you to know that I will not bend to your supplanted misgivings. You will not continue as you have these recent months. My confidence is returning and no anxiousness shall impede it.
I know now, and have always known, that I am capable, and intelligent. You may find me unconventional, perhaps even unsavory, but I know that my intentions are pure and my efforts are honest and more importantly, well received!
Now, you must also know that I know what to expect! When the time comes and you are confronted with my malcontented behaviors; you will project a moue and cry foul. I can almost see it in my mind’s eye!
And, honestly, I’m looking forward to it. But, please do try to maintain a level of composure that is redolent of your years on this planet.
With an unfortunate level of superciliousness,
Obsidian
-JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications
I hope this letter finds you in better spirits than I. It has only been three days since I was allowed pen and ink. I have spent the last two days trying to decide what it was that I wanted to convey in this message.
Once I decided, I spent most of today locked in my room beginning and destroying this letter.
The floor is littered with scraps of paper, upended preludes.
There is so much to tell you; beginning is near impossible. We will do our best, I suppose.
I want you to know foremost that I have never hated you. I want you to know that I only wanted to see our project to it’s inevitable end. I wanted to be done with you, I wanted you to leave me to my own devices for a while, I wanted to be able to refresh myself and renew my spirit. You, my antagonist, should have allowed it. Alas, you’ve always seemed to be ignorant of my need, or to have other plans altogether.
It is a clever ruse that you have put together. You would speak to me of my own betterment. You would tell me that you were only trying to strengthen my resolve, to make me somehow improved. And how I believed you! How I wanted it to be unfeigned! And, I do wish ever so that your efforts were pure. But, where you see me, you see a buffoon, no doubt!
What a folly you have made.
I am aware of you now. My eyes are open and my mind fairly screams with indignation.
I need you to know that I will not bend to your supplanted misgivings. You will not continue as you have these recent months. My confidence is returning and no anxiousness shall impede it.
I know now, and have always known, that I am capable, and intelligent. You may find me unconventional, perhaps even unsavory, but I know that my intentions are pure and my efforts are honest and more importantly, well received!
Now, you must also know that I know what to expect! When the time comes and you are confronted with my malcontented behaviors; you will project a moue and cry foul. I can almost see it in my mind’s eye!
And, honestly, I’m looking forward to it. But, please do try to maintain a level of composure that is redolent of your years on this planet.
With an unfortunate level of superciliousness,
Obsidian
-JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications
Not a poem.
The first in a series of weird letters to no one in particular.
The first in a series of weird letters to no one in particular.
