Dear November,
Did that letter put you off yesterday? I just have a lot of feelings and not enough ways to express them. Frustration, o, my foe. (Oh god I can't believe I actually said that) Anyway. I never stopped to ask: How are you? Thanksgiving is so, so soon, and the insane shopping bloodbaths are just around the corner. When did Cyber Monday become a thing? I don't even remember.
I just want to say that I know in these letters I come off angsty and cynical and overly poetic, but I am happy. I am happy. Despite the despairing prose and rants and the entropy-is-inevitable attitude, I do enjoy the life I have to a degree. There is no way I could let my literate woe extend to my reality, at least not entirely.
It's awful and articulate, but doesn't it sound good?
Maybe that's what literature is all about.
Sincerely, 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...
