Dear November,
How many letters have I written to you? Two weeks' worth, just about, right? I don't know, do you even read these? Probably not. I am sending my words to the unknown corners of the internet, or maybe you.
Someone's gotta snap me out of this. When I write, I sound strange and bitter and sarcastic. In real life, I am all of these, but they are drown out by my other attributes. The art I make shows different versions of me. I don't know why I'm telling you this; the last time I tried to explain why I tried to explain everything I was saying ended up in a ruined friendship and vats full of bad blood. We're not friends, so I think it's safe to spill my heart and mind out to you, don't you think?
Maybe you actually read this one, Esther
YOU ARE READING
dear november
Non-FictionThis is a compilation of letters I wrote daily during the month of November, starting November fourth, skipping one day? two days? and ending on November 30th. Originally done on Polyvore, by @writingtips' and @smileylina 's suggestion, who got the...
