Dear Me

Opening up your lunch box, you expect to find your normal mixture of baby carrots, a slightly-mushed sandwich and a clementine. But today’s different. Instead of the food you swore you had packed that morning, there’s a mysterious note signed by—yourself? What does it say, and why can’t you remember writing it? Perhaps most important, what will you eat for lunch?

Post your response (500 words or fewer) in the comments below.

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206 thoughts on “Dear Me

  1. Repeat1210

    “There is more to life and I have found it.”
    I stared at the note, at my neat but scratchy Sharpie handwriting and the only thing that I could really think about is that I’d never had sleepwalking problems before. The address printed below it though, that was the only thing that required recognition. The most familiar street in a place I’ve never been before was illustrated in front of me, so, hoping that maybe I’d find my lunch at the end of the rainy alley. The shop looked like it didn’t quite know what it wanted to be. It had a haphazard collection of Ikea shelves lined with dusty bottles of oil and sticks of incense shoved recklessly into cups. Tarot cards and candles took up space on the side board and the counter was full of a surprising and mildly disturbing amount of tiny animal heads that were covered in a thin layer of dust. Small cauldrons and wooden boxes and crystals and buckets of unidentifiable things took up the rest of the space, and a shadowed door led to a tiny back room. The woman at the front counter wasn’t much better. She looked as out of place as everything else, at least a century old with a French humpback, wrinkles that made her face look like tin foil that had been pounded into a ball, then straightened again — only powdered to look less shiny– with sags that looked like velvet ruffles on a dress trail. I couldn’t quite tell what her eye color was from a distance–and trust me, I didn’t much want to get closer– but maybe grey or black or a bit marble? She had lipstick, surprisingly, but it was applied like not much thought had gone into the color nor how thorough she wanted it smeared.  Her hair was grey and white streaked and the whole thing was a big dread lock falling down her back, almost not noticeable, unless you had good eyes like myself so you could see the cobweb of tangle, or if you touched it, which I’m sure no one would do willingly, after seeing those strands woven with beads, feathers and breakfast. Her clothes look drab, like they’d been found somewhere in these wooden crates of forgotten and useless things that someone had bought from the Salvation Army only to throw out just to save others from it’s hideousness. I hope my lunch isn’t in here. In fact, I hope my future is not in here either, not on those Tarot cards and most definitely not in the control of the woman at the front desk who sill hasn’t noticed my disgust. I might as well try. I mean, a place with no sign, no light and no windows, and just a chipped copper basement bulkhead door– that looked to me just like the perfect spot for my future to start.

  2. Zenith Bey

    Dear Me:

    I was going to start out by implying that maybe this may come off as a shock, but you’re a smart girl, intelligent.. And beautiful. You know that this has been a long time coming. Whether you’re sporting that bewildered stare you wear whenever Katey comes in from the kitchen wondering where all the banana bread went from the batch she made from that easy bake oven you got her for hitting head of her class again (I’d dare utter the phrase ‘silently judging you’ but I have to admit her little hands work miracles with something battery operated and solely reliant on a lightbulb) or not, you’re not fooling anyone, certainly not me (intelligent, remember?).

    It’s time you faced the music and gave up the salsa… literally. You’ve been ignoring me. Neglecting me.. And you know it. Every time you get up in the A.M. and feel that twist in your gut from the emails awaiting you, the looming dread in your stomach during the car ride to the office, the lead in your abdomen every time you hit the send button on another mindless tabloid article grudgingly put together to please the boss and get your paycheck. I get it, we got to make a living, how ELSE are we supposed to keep Katey through school and getting her ingredients to bake with? At the rate she’s going grade-wise and bake-wise we might as well buy her a whole Easy Kitchen and let HER do all the cooking (it certainly would save us the trouble of scraping off the charred bits from the frying pan after lunch.. I guess I AM silently judging you..)

    Come ON, Bee! Where’s your spirit?! The empty excerpts, the gossip pieces, the corny one-liners… that’s not bringing us happiness! LOOK at yourself! How much have you put on in the past two months? And you’re a vegan! How does a vegan put on 20 pounds off plants and water??

    Stop ignoring me!

    Stop stuffing the void I keep pointing out to you with blue corn chips and avocado buffalo wings. The high point of your day shouldn’t be sitting down at the Bugle cafeteria to munch on more of Katey’s banana bread… This job doesn’t make you happy, Bee.. you have too much talent, too much intelligence, too much potential to be wasting your days on fake people and a fake reality.

    You’re HUNGRY for something… I’M hungry for something… Your SOUL is hungry for something… and the sustenance won’t be found in the last bite of homemade hummus Katey made last night that you tried sneaking into your lunchbox (stealing your daughter’s cooking isn’t doing too hot for your self esteem by the way.. I’ve been trying to tell you that also).

    Your life is supposed to COUNT for something, your talent is supposed to COUNT for something, The Most High didn’t give you this gift to write about uselessness, and the ravenous delight you allow yourself at lunchtime only confirms that; your stomach may be full, but your spirit’s still starving. And I try to tell you, over and over, with every twist and every knot and every ache.

    And no matter how much you try to fill me with the cashews and peanuts and almond butter and veggie wraps, I’m still going to call to you until you acknowledge me and tell yourself the truth.

    It’s time to let this job go, and answer your true Calling.

    Your real purpose has been ringing you nonstop, and it’s in your best interest to answer.

    Sincerely yours,

    Bee

  3. Pumjin

    Usually, during Japan’s Spring Blossoms , I expect yummy foods each day from my girlfriend. Today, on this day, I feel empty. Instead of seeing her figure on the bed beside me. I see a lunchbox. One I do not recognize, one that has a simple stripped design. Sadly, I decided not to search for my missing partner, but instead I open the lunchbox and each word I read made me regret even waking up that day.
    Dear Me,
    On this day, when you receive this , the love of your life is missing again. Again? You may think. Yes again. The one whom you fell for , is the girl who helped you regain your will to live. The one who stopped you from jumping off that bridge in San Francisco. The girl who made you realize living was everything. You can’t afford to lose her again. You love her dearly and she loves you as well. Even though you doubt yourself on why she’s even with you. Wonder why she’s with you and not a guy. She chose you. She chose the girl who wanted to end her life. But, why? Why do you chose to still doubt yourself? Sure you may not remember at all when this had happened, but it doesn’t matter, unless you make it matter. It’s funny, ’cause you actually took the time to read this. I mean , you could’ve saved her like she saved you. So, what will you do now? Funny, huh? It is so funny how you don’t know who you were. It is hilarious how you haven’t gotten out of the house for weeks. It is amusing how you kept your mistake, her body in the closet downstairs. Who would’ve known you were to be the one who pushed off that mountain. It makes me laugh, how you still don’t why you did it. It makes me hysterical, My GOD. Why haven’t you opened the door to realizing what you have done. Why don’t realize why you did it. Why?
    I didn’t know how to react. Did I seriously kill my girlfriend? Since, I have woken up, the time was 7:20 in the morning and now when I look back. It’s still 7:20. It’s been 7:20 for months. Is this my punishment? I tried killing myself yesterday, I threw the pills back up. They won’t go down. My girlfriend keeps looking at me through the doorway. Her neck is twisted. She told me dinner was ready for the 50th time. She said she made yummy stuff since it’s Spring.

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