Dear Editor

I use the word pusillanimous. Few things are precious to me. I can’t tell the difference between Chinese and Japanese. I tend to my ipod, computer, and internet access. I become violent when my cat doesn’t purr. I haven’t read most books I own. I eat gas station food. I drink juice from the bottle and put it back. I never accomplish. I take a pill, I take a pill. I’m bored with porn. I’d rather be alone. I have a double chin from constantly watching my nipples. I don’t love my parents enough. I’ve neglected getting new tires on purpose. I prefer to text than talk and do it while I drive. I’m a shit singer and I certainly don’t have soul. I rein on myspace. I can’t get it up unless it’s from behind. I disappoint my dentist. I’ve never almost drowned. I’m a manipulating machine. I forget what I was going to say. My hair used to be thick. I don’t hate women but I don’t think I love them. I wear the same clothes for several days and just don’t care anymore. I feel the urge to suddenly kiss people when they are talking. I never follow through. I can’t spell occur or recommend or receive the first time. I forget where I live. I accidentally get high. I kissed my friend’s little sister. I let women fall in love with me and pretend to know nothing about it. I don’t like paying for anyone. I’ve stolen toothbrushes. I buy movies and they just sit on the table. I won’t admit I like the new beyonce single. For hours I search for unmentionable things on youtube. I’ve forgotten everything that turned me on in college. I sip soy sauce. I think condoms are good for faking orgasms. I act like I don’t know my snide remarks have been hurting my dad. I talk so much shit. I’d rather just get drunk at home. I crack my nose. I think the way I wipe my ass is unique. I can’t not write about myself. I say babies are ugly. I’ve listened to the same meaningless music for too long. A part of me agrees with anal bleaching. I’ve been told I’m as cold as an iceberg. I liken myself to hemingway. I check my email all day and recently have taken an interest in spam. I watch myself in passing windows. I’d rather burn to death than freeze and I take my showers accordingly. I say the spot of blood on my sheets isn’t what it looks like. I try not to think about other people suffering. I make sure everyone knows I’ve read ulysses. I think pussy tastes like salty milk and coins. I worry about spyware. I wish to defecate on things. I masturbate on buses. I never tell anyone anything. I have stretch marks. I can’t get over moles. I am subconsciously saving up for asshole electrolysis. I want to encounter all my doppelgangers. I spend a lot of time organizing mp3s. I’ve been told I talk too much about my big dick. I generally disagree. I won’t capitalize god and then I challenge him to fights. I’ve never been in one. I don’t dream. I listen to the voices. I need more fish oil. I’d rather sleep. I go on and on. I catch myself saying “right on.” I punish myself. I take color for granted. I can’t define decidedly. Worst of all, I thought you should know.