Let it all out!

I recently began following a new blog called Twenty Something Writers, and as yet have not submitted anything or even commented — mostly out of busyness, and also because I still battle with whether I can call myself a “writer” when I’m not exactly disciplined at doing it regularly. But anyway, there’s a prompt that has gone pretty viral (at least in my Google Reader), and I figured, what the heck. Maybe I can even incorporate Three Word Wednesday into it, too. So here goes nothin’.

The prompt from 20SW:
—————
We all have something we want to say to someone. Maybe it’s someone in your life now. Or, maybe it is something you wish you said to someone who is no longer in your life. It could even be Mr./Ms. Random Person that you saw in the local coffee shop today. What do you want to say that you were never able to?You can leave the person(s) identity anonymous, if you’d like. Feel free to feature more than one person. Do it in letter form or any form you prefer. Show us that creativity!
—————

For as much as I know I messed up and hurt you, I still feel like calling you a hypocrite and a liar because you told me you would always be there for me, no matter what.

I was deathly afraid of you for three years because of the time I called you to set up an interview for the paper and you refused because you didn’t think I was professional enough. I avoided taking your classes until it came to senior year and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take your once-every-four-years C.S. Lewis course. I learned that you hate dealing with people over the phone, and that was the only reason you were upset about the interview calls; had I emailed you instead, I might not have feared and loathed you for so long. But I’m glad I sucked it up and took the course, because it was one of the best in my college career.

I feel kind of stupid when I feel the urge to say things like, “You complete me,” because they’re so cliche and cheesy, but as silly as it may come across, the emotion behind it would be totally earnest. You really do complete me.

I don’t even know your name, but every time I walk by you in the hall at work, I think of Sesame Street. I guess you look kind of like you could be one of the cheesy actresses who talk to Big Bird and Oscar or something. Anyway, it makes me smile, but I will probably never tell you.

To anyone who is a germophobe and tends to use the second stall in the bathroom at work: sorry, but I hardly ever use the toilet seat covers. Frankly, I don’t think my butt is really dirty and I don’t sweat that much. And anyway, if the seat were already dirty or peed-on, I wouldn’t use it. I hope you don’t have an overly-reactive gag reflex.

I’m slightly ashamed to admit that when I was standing next to you at the bagel shop, upon noticing you were wearing pink toenail polish, I felt sort of creeped out and wanted to shuffle away a few inches. For all I know, it was just a dare. I mean, you looked like a perfectly normal guy other than the festive pedicure.

I am forever indebted to you for teaching me how to layer my clothes. It’s fashionable and practical, especially now that I live in a place with such unpredictable weather. But I think I need a refresher course.

(Brought to you by the popular 20SW prompt, and by the words earnest, reactive, and layer.)