Letter To My... Friends.....

Dear Reader(s):
Who here really cares about what’s happened to me, or where I’m going in life. I’m (1) a complete stranger, (2) the girl with a name the entire class has established is bubbly due to the “I” at the end, (3) have horrendous/publicly humiliating anxiety attacks when I’m put on the spot, and (4) someone none of you are going to talk to once this semester is over. So why even ask? Everyone likes to say they aren’t like anyone you’ve ever met because they have “this” and “that” and talk to “them” and wear “this” kind of deodorant. I’m not going to do that to you. I refuse to put you through that consecutive routine, it bores the hell out of both of us. So I’ll be honest.
From the beginning: I was born in a barn. We’ve been over this. We’ve giggled about this ironic fact. Moving on, my parents split when I was three, and we moved to Tucson for Mom to finish school. I jumped from daycare and elementary school to elementary school for being the scary five year-old who got in fights with groups of six or seven boys at a time, mortified my teachers with a vocabulary of a middle-aged sailor, and felt the only people I could trust were the characters in the books I had my nose jammed in. Fake friends were fun.
Skipping to 8th grade, my best friend died. Debbie Downer of me to bring up, sorry, but that was the ultimate downfall of my attitude towards life as a whole. Wasn’t a huge sharer after that, which didn’t help much in relationships afterwards. Okay lets stop there for a moment. What’s with guys..? Am I the only one getting the girly-men here? Or is everyone else dating the sharers and cuddlers? Because I thought guys were supposed to be all cavemen-like, and I’d much prefer that over Mr. Sensitive. I feel like I’m losing the whole feminine situation after repeated arguments about my “failure to communicate.” Get over it, please, I beg of thee.
I don’t share my feelings. I write my feelings. And I write them in a way I can nonchalantly share them. Not as a journal entry or random status update online. I usually write them as a “Ha ha wouldn’t it be funny if Lucy-May didn’t have any money then got fired because our economy’s complete shit.” It’s easier that way, and I don’t have to feel all vulnerable and start crying like a complete Nancy. Yay for having the emotions of a shoe.
I love writing. It’s fun and I always seem to find out something new about myself and my personality. Writing, to me, is like a dream. You throw together all these funny, lustful, or despairing things and find out you’re (a) in a good mood, (b) really need to get some, or (c) need to watch a sad movie as a cheer up. I say sad movie because nothings more satisfying than watching someone else’s pain. Leaves you to think “Hmm, could be worse, someone could shoot my dog, or I could fall down an elevator shaft.”
The only issue with my writing is I never know how to simply wrap it up. The conclusion is my least favorite part because I never know how to end the story for my characters. Should they be happy and live in their fairy castle or should I just throw a big, angry Great White Shark in the mix to eat them. Both are equally fun for me.
To conclude I’ll tell a tad bit more about myself. I’m in school, and after that I want to be a fuzz. Until then, I work at Starbucks. Its good for me, they make you pretend to be happy. And I’m concluding this right now with this sentence because I’m bad at concluding things.

Have an Outstanding day!
Christi Lee
P.S. My nickname’s Christi but I’d prefer it if you’d all call me Christine. Thanks again for throwing me and Connie under the same bus. ;)