Dear Blinders,

i will make it plain and simple.

i would really appreciate it if you disappeared and never came back. it would prevent a lot of misunderstandings.
you are no longer welcome.

thanks in advance,
the blinded

Dear Window,

i often wonder how you manage to get so dirty.

i never see you play in the mud – all you do is just sit there… and wait.
i can understand your outsides getting dirty – after all rain isn’t always crystal-clear and there is the one or other nasty bird who doesn’t know how to behave… but get dirty on the insides? it’s a miracle to me.

i will give you and your family a sponge bath today and rub you dry after… but i would ask of you and your relatives to take better care of yourselves – i am short and always have to use my stepladder… it’s really an effort.
come to think of it, maybe you enjoy the sight of that… i will have to reconsider.

think about what i said… please. or at least let me in on your secret.

the one looking out

Dear Uneasy Feeling,

you must like it in the comfortable cave of my stomach.

today, you’re like an unwanted guest… no matter how much i try to bore you, stare at my wristwatch and tell you i don’t have time for this, you won’t go away.
yes, you know i’m a polite person and i don’t like to yell… but let me tell you, i am really close to yelling at YOU.

so, consider this your last polite warning. if you’re not gone soon, i’m going to get the broom.

the annoyed landlady

Dear Clean Sheets,

how i love your company.
you do not only entice me with your wonderful scent, but you also seem to be able to alter my dreams – for i never have nightmares after i relieve your cousins from duty and make you take their place.
i always feel so refreshed in the morning, after the first night we spend together.
i wish i could experience the exquisiteness of meeting for the first time every day, but i’m sure if i did that, my washing machine would have words with me. that poor guy would have to work overtime… just for my pleasure. consider it a no-go.

it will still be a few more days until we meet again, but, until then, be certain i’ll be thinking of you.

the comfortable sleepyhead

Dear Garlic,

they say you stink to high heaven.
they say if we encounter, i will be shunned and people will turn from me in disgust.

let them see how much i care.

you’ve been my friend for many years now and i am thankful we got to know each other. true, we mostly meet up on the weekends, but i can’t help to sneak a taste on weekdays once in a while.
from sweet to acrid, you have it all – you have so many different faces and facets, they almost make you human.
i don’t care what they say, i won’t give up on our friendship… you and my taste buds are best buds (boom tish!) – how could you not be.
so if anyone makes you cry or feel uneasy, just know, you can always come to me.

your true friend

The Mess which is no Mess

a glass of
ember liquid
tipped over
the precious content
on burning letters
freshly sprung
from a hungry mind.
if it improves
the words
i do not know
but it creates
a beautiful pattern,

Dear Toilet Paper,

how grateful i am you exist.

whether it’s in times of dire need, to blow our noses, for our children’s entertainment or for our pets to chew on… you are always there.
you never complain, although you seem to happen to encounter precarious situations quite often… and let’s not forget, you manage to endure unique (and disturbing) sights. a lot of them.

i felt like giving you credit for what you do for us, because you seem to be forgotten quite often. i think it has to do with you being closely involved with our rear ends – and that, not many people like to talk about.
i thank you for your services, whether you’re fluffy or are having a rough day… it’s been a while since i found you absent and i appreciate your punctuality and reliability.

i hope you will never quit your job and leave us with more rudimentary methods.

a satisfied customer

Dear Thunderstorm,

how i love it when you rage.

the dark clouds, announcing your coming, the distant rumble, steadily growing louder and more frequent, the first big drops of rain… anticipation building.
and when you’re here, prepared to unleash…
it’s just wonderful. powerful. reviving.
your rains, attempting to drown the landscape, your deep, basso voice echoing through the air and the beautiful, unexpected patterns lighting draws onto your canvas, the sky… and when i close my eyes, i can still enjoy the forms and shapes for a little bit longer.

when i see you rage, i am tempted to step right into the argument… i would love to howl and yell right back at you… not in anger, of course, but rather to spur you on. you make me feel so alive, and i thank you for it.
sometimes you frighten me… but that’s okay, i still like you.

i wish i knew what angered you so much though… but it’s good that you can relieve some pressure.

a drenched admirer

photo credits:

Dear Stress,

i have been following your movements for a long time now… analyzing, observing, forming my opinion. i have to admit you’re really good at what you’re doing. if you weren’t, there wouldn’t be so many people under your constant influence.

nevertheless, i have bad news for you… i found your “good twin”, your counterpart, a while ago… its name is Calmness.
today i was able to witness it in action… quite remarkable, i have to say. this one outshines you by far and its long-term methods – when it comes to dealing with daily life – are really impressive.
you two must have been separated at birth, for people who know you usually don’t know the other. do you know Calmness? did you two ever meet? probably not.
i would advise you to get in touch, because if things keep going as they are, you might soon reach the peak of your career… and might plummet straight down afterward. i’m sure a lot of those who spent too much time in your grasp will soon be looking for another solution. you drain people, suck the life out of them… and no one wants that.
you’ll be out of work. period.

so, for the good of all, you might want to go easier on people… oh, and get in touch with your twin – a remarkable fellow, i can assure you. i’m sure there’s a lot to learn when you hear the other side of the story.
i hope you can see the truth in my words and i wish you good luck on your journey.

a former addict

Dear Insomnia,

it’s been a while since our last encounter, and i cannot say that i miss you very much.
i know this is not a nice thing to say, but you weren’t nice to me either, so there.

that we parted ways was best for us, i think… i promise i won’t ignore you completely when we see each other in passing. maybe i’ll even wave at you, but that’s it. you’ve had your chance with me… and i moved on.
i hope you’ll be able to rethink your behavior one day… i know, change is hard, but i believe everyone can do it – it’s just a piece of work, that’s all.
people might even like you better if you only visit once in a while instead of staying all night long, every day of the week… consider it. it’s not as hard as it seems. everyone can use a little “alone time” now and then, even you.

all the best,
your former employer

photo credits:

Dear Laundry Detergent,

once again i am amazed by your superpowers.
not only did you manage to get the ink stain out of my jeans (it was a tough one, i know), but you always manage to make my laundry (and with that, my appartment) smell most admirably. you never complain, no matter how bad it gets.
i have to admit i’m a bit jealous… i wish everything i touched would instantly start smelling this good, but i guess not everyone can have what you have.
you’re a winner.

thank you for not letting me down. i feel uplifted and refreshed by your presence.

the one who spills

Dear Post-It,

a member of your family died today. my deepest condolences.

you know how much i love to use you and your cousins, aunts and uncles for my enjoyment… i write quotes that i like on your colorful surfaces and stick them to my front door… that way, i can always lay eyes on you before i have to leave the house. i enjoy your family’s services very much.

i know you, too, get older… and die eventually. the cycle of life.
this is what happened today. i think it was your aunt (the post-it was pink), she couldn’t hold on any longer and fell down. she lived a long life.

i am sorry for your loss and i have to say that it isn’t easy for me to see her go… but i figured it was her time.
please be assured that she will have a proper burial. i loved her, too… very much.

you, your family and friends will always be welcome to try a spot at my front door… it is a happy and meaningful life, i promise.

thank you so much for understanding and again, i am sorry for your loss.
she was wonderful.

best wishes,
your aunt’s mourner

Dear Cold Feet (Part II),

it seems a miracle has happened. the sun must have finally opened her mailbox and found my letter inside, for she is showing her face today.
i couldn’t believe it either.
i will now release you from your wooly prison and let you bathe in the warmth and light for a bit. i keep my promises.

let’s hope this lasts.

the resident from above

Dear Cold Feet,

i really do understand why you’re doing this.
i know the expression ‘cold feet’ is usually used to describe an uneasy feeling, but right now you’re just cold… and i don’t feel uneasy.
so sorry to have to put you through this, i know this time of year you don’t expect to be covered in thick socks and maybe you’re a little mad at me for breaking the rules, but i can’t help it, it’s not my fault. i already wrote a letter to the sun, asking her what was wrong, but so far… no reply.
so as long as she doesn’t react, you’ll have to endure me covering you up… and i promise as soon as the sun peeks through the clouds, i’ll release you. you have my word.

i wish you would find it in you to just warm up and stop giving me the cold glare. please consider it.
nothing i can do… we’re in this together.

the resident from above

Dear Rumbling Stomach,

i have been trying to figure out why you always start talking loudly when i least expect it, and so far i have come to no conclusion whatsoever. starting to roar like a lion when i have company doesn’t only make you look bad, but me as well.

i know you are only doing your job, but – digestion aside – why don’t you take a break once in a while?

it’s totally okay to let your voice echo through the depth of my bowels right now (since i’m alone), but may i ask you to take a break once i have company? i would really appreciate it.
besides, everyone needs a break now and then (i don’t want you to end up with burnout syndrome and, as a result, maybe giving me an ulcer), so maybe you’ll consider it next time you start working frantically and i’m drawing unwanted looks.
just take it easy.

thanks in advance,
your container