Dear darling (or to whom it may concern):
First, please allow me to apologize for this most unusual format. Letters. Structure. Steps and stages, all of it's so old-fashioned. But so is undying love. Uncompromising good. So is easy joy.
So call me old-fashioned.
I would like to request a refund on the software that I've so recently purchased. All of the stories I can access on your system display in gray tones. I can't feel context on my fingertips. The only scent I breathe in is so much burning ozone. There's sound, sure enough, but there's no music.
I can make my own music. Please, be quiet. Just let me listen.
I would like to file a complaint regarding your customer service. I am not a customer. I do not want to be serviced. I want an old friends at the coffee shop. I want to be the new girl at the bookstore. Your online chat was helpful, though, after I ran them out of scripts.
Please stop coaching them. People can be lovely or hideous. They don't need to suppress that.
I would like to speak to your CEO. Your president. Your board of directions. Their administrative assistants and the fitness instructors that come by every Tuesday and/or Thursday. (Sandwiches are Wednesdays - too much mayo. Counter-productive.) Not to yell; I just want to meet them.
I want to know they're really there. Are you sure? When was the last time you checked?
So, in conclusion, I would like to thank you for your software. For your hardware. For your gray stories and your popular personalities. I think that what you've made is lovely, in its way. Clearly, a lot of work went into it. Someone loves it. I've tried. But thank you, anyway. I honor the effort.
Even so, I just want my simple stories back. My human beings. My old-fashioned "feels".
So, with all my love,
To all of you,
From all of me,
A Person, Unimpersonal
P.S.: Bring back Firefly. That was the shit. Please?
Prompt: An expressive Anonymous asked me:
(c) 2013 Lawerence Hawkins. Seeking writing prompts, feedback, reblogs, follows, and more!