Writing letters to inanimate objects is really fun and sort of makes me feel like wack-job, but I enjoy doing it anyways, and I always thought, "Hey, you should do whatever makes you happy, even if it does land you in a padded room." I've actually never had that thought until this moment, but it sounds sort of smart and dignified to me... or the opposite. Oh well. Here's my latest letter.
Dear Agenda Book,
I try to give you a purpose in life. I really try. You seem like a great idea in theory; sort of like communism, only more agenda-y, and book-like. Whenever I actually decide to write something in you, though, it does no good. I go through phases where I religiously write down every school assignment and reminder in you, so you won't feel unappreciated. I know it makes you overjoyed when I write my French assignment and drama club reminder in you, but I can't always keep up with this strenuous job of putting you to use. It gets to the point where I have thirty seconds left in class, so I just end up writing my Sociology assignment on my book cover, rather than opening you up and finding the right date before actually even writing down the assignment. I'm sorry that I don't appreciate your extreme willingness to help me become a more organized person.
I'd also like to apologize for all the abuse you have put up with. It must be so embarrassing being carried around everywhere with my school logo on your cover that I tried to color in with purple gel pen that smudged all over the place. I know I must have really hurt you when I etched my name into your back cover with the end of a paper clip, too; I know I wouldn't want someone to do that to me. I'm also pretty sure you're angry at me right now, because you hid from me in the bottom of my bag this morning. Probably because my friend decided it would be hilarious to draw a penis on every page of you; don't blame me. Blame him. I tried to tell him not to, I swear.
Either way, I'm sorry that you probably feel vastly unimportant and useless; you really aren't. You actually have a lot of potential, agenda book. You just need to consider a little bit of self improvement. I have a few suggestions. First off, I find that even if I take the time to write my assignments in you, I end up forgetting them, because I don't look at you once I get home. No worries, my friend; we can fix this. Here's an idea: cupcakes. I open you up to check for any assignments, you give me a cupcake. Just a thought. Maybe you could even make it better by offering me a unicorn after so many times of opening you at home. I would definitely use you more often.
You know what's funny about that previous sentence is that if when I say it to you, it sounds acceptable; if I said that to a friend, or a man, or a prostitute, or something of the sort, the reaction probably wouldn't be so great. (By putting those three categories of people into one sentence, I am neither insinuating that I associate with prostitutes, or that any of my friends are prostitutes.) Either way, I'm very sorry, agenda book. I don't deserve you, but still, you stick around and over zealously try to make me a more organized person. Thank you for the eff0rt, and please consider my cupcake/unicorn idea. It would really help.
UPDATE: Hey guys, I drew you a picture!
UPDATE: I showed the picture to my mother. She thought it was stupid. What does she know about humor anyways...?