I'll send you all my promises across the sea

Dear Future Husband, whoever and wherever you may be.

I must warn you of some things. I feel that if you are going to spend a large proportion of your life putting up with them, you should be given a lot of time to get used to them, conceptually at least.

1. I have a slightly expensive habbit/love/addiction of tea in all its many flavours and infusions. Start saving now. And tasting too.

2. I have an unhealthy affection for flash games. Not sure what is to be done about this... any ideas?

3. I often make a cup of tea and leave it on the bench, satisfied with only the proccess, to remember it and want to drink it half an hour later. Tea is not the same post-microwave.

4. I am full of pointless pipe dreams and hypothetical scenarios. I should write more and fantasize less.

5. I am nearly unbearably messy, disorganised, forgetful and un-punctual. I have very limited regard for order, both of objects (excluding books, CDs DVDs and the presentation of art) and of the ever ticking minutes. If I am meant to be somewhere, chances are I may have begun getting ready. Unless it is more than fifteen minutes away, in which case I will still be asleep. Please buy a very loud alarm clock and endeavour to become naturally organised. You couldn't possibly be worse than me, and if you are, prepare for one hell of a rollercoaster of missed deadlines, lost details and 'sorry-we're-late's.

6. And this is the big one, pretty much a summary.
I am a hurricane. With a multicoloured, multitextured wake of sheet music, clothing, shoes and scraps of paper both life shattering and menial, I am a hurricane. Physically destructive and disorderly, and emotional explosive. Extreme. If I am happy, I'll bubble over. If I'm angry, give me something to break that is of no consequence and run, or give me something to scream at. If I'm sad, let me cry on you and hold me very tightly. If I'm content, it will be tangible, but mostly I must warn you about the effect stress has on me. I carry a lot of tension in my lower back and in my feet. I will whinge about this, sorry in advance. These will sometimes cramp up. I will whinge about this, sorry in advance. I become hugely snappy, and I swear a lot. Consider earplugs.


Oh, and a small practical sidenote. We should buy all our crockery and glassware cheap from opshops. Like I said, I'm a hurricane.

Sorry in advance, for all of me.

Living in your prewar apartment, soon to be your post war apartment

First of all,

Dear people who blog letters to things.
Sorry I stole your idea, I couldn't help myself

tata!

Second,

Dear Future,
I would stand in the rain to wait for you.
Sometimes it feels like I already am.
I would stand in hail for you, for a ridiculously long time.
Sometimes I think I have seen glimpses of you, but they are not my future, they are someone else's, zipping along down the line.

Do destinys have return to sender?
I would stand through a hurricane, I would wait for years.

But I get the feeling I would convince myself that my whole future consists of waiting, and walk away shaking my head.
I am certain this will happen, just as I am certain you will be shipped return to sender when it turns out you simply had to buy a bandaid to save yourself from the blister of your shiny new shoes and I have not had the faith to wait for you.