Dear Coffee, I love the way you taste but I hate the way I feel the next day, like there’s a nuclear reactor inside my chest cavity. It kills me to say this, but I think it’s best if I don’t drink you anymore… ever.
Dear Cigarettes, I wish I could quit you as easily as I can coffee. Apparently I like you a lot more than I let on.
Dear Hot Bodies In Motion, I have cried each of the two times that I’ve seen you play “Winding Roads” live because I want nothing more than to be a girl who’s not afraid to stretch her legs. When you finally record this song, I can almost guarantee that it will be the most played song in my iTunes in a matter of days.
Dear Tattly, you guys are geniuses.
Dear Seattle Summer, you have not been wholly disappointing so far. Thanks for your efforts.
Dear Rapidly Declining Mental Health, I’m looking really hard for a way out of this miserable mess. Please hang in there for a little while longer… it will get better.
Dear Mark, I’m going to see Best Coast with Michael tonight, and I have a feeling that when they play “Boyfriend,” I’ll be imagining you singing along as you fold your laundry on a Sunday afternoon and probably giggling quietly to myself. I wish you were going with us.
Dear Austin, TX, I’m still dreaming about you.