Dear String Cheese,
I'm sorry I ate your brother, cousin, sister, niece, nephew, uncle, grandpa-once removed, and Aunt Millie. I just love you so much and when I open Mr. Fridge to see you I can't help but get excited.
You make my armpits smell so good. Thank you, thank you, thank you. That time I tried to use you as lotion and smother you all over my body was on accident. . . Please forgive me.
Dear Chicago Spanish Dictionary,
You are still my best friend. Especialmente cuando yo quiero a jugar futbol con los mexicanos. Te amo.
Dear Recipe Book,
Please stop haunting me in the middle of the night. I knowwwww you want to play with me, but I'm busy.
Dear ScrapBook mess in my room,
I apologize for neglecting you. Don't worry. I'll call you in the morning and work on our relationship lots and lots.
We're breaking up. I never really liked you that much anyway. You do nothing for me. And you don't even smell good. At least my other seasons smell good. Seriously, it's probably best for you to never call and never show your dirty little face 'round these parts ever again.