Dear phone,

I'm afraid that if you continue to die, and become reanimated in my pocket,

I will have to shoot you.

Obviously, you are a zombie. And I'm cool with that.

Well, I'm MOSTLY cool with that.

The only time that I'm totally not cool with that is when you die,

and then decide that the perfect time to come back to life is in the middle of Social Studies.

And since I don't notice you coming back to life, you make sure that I do by turning on Voice Command.

And you go, "SAY A VOICE COMMAND."

And then in my head I'm like, "sheepsheepsheepsheep."

And the teacher says, "TURN THAT OFF."

And I say, "I'M TRYING TO~!"
And you repeat, "SAY A VOICE COMMAND."
And then I manage to finally turn you off and shove you into the depths of my backpack.

It's just an ordeal. An ordeal I don't need, phone.

So, unless you fix your reanimation problem, I WILL shoot you.

You have 3 days.

Seek help immediately, please.

With warning, 

Felicity

Dear suicidal fishy,

Please stop trying to jump out of the tank.

It's not very fun out here in the world, trust me.

At least in that tank you have a (glass, breakable, jump-out-able) roof over your head,

and (pelleted, fishy-smelly) food every day,

and (fish) people that (really don't, they actually hate you) love you.

Honestly, you life isn't that bad.

It worth living!

So, in short; PLEASE STOP TRYING TO JUMP OUT OF THE FISH TANK.
And if the above listed reasons are not enough,
the other fish are starting to think you're a wimp. Yeah, honestly.
I head them. They were all, "Blubblubblub."
Which translates to: "Did you hear about the fish who keeps trying to jump out? Yeah, he's WEAKKK."
You're ruining your rep! Your fishy rep!
You don't want to loose your fishy rep, do you?

Thank you,

Felicity

Dear stereotypical teenaged girls,

Shut up!

Shut up!

Shut up!

My gosh!

You just go on and on and on about the stupidest stuff.

You insult girls that you barely know.

You get angry when we don't listen, but you NEVER have anything worthwhile to say.

Shut up!

You're just exactly what everyone expects teenaged girls to be.

You're ruining our reputation.
Everyone expects me to be like you, so they don't listen.
But I'm not like you!
And neither are most girls.
But the few of you, the few stereotypes, ruin it all.

Just, go away.

And shut up!

With annoyance,

Felicity

Dear past Felicity,

WHERE ARE MY GLASSES.

Seriously.

You're making it hard for BOTH of us by putting them in odd places where I can't find them.

It's not okay. You really need to cut it out.

Because you know what? If I go blind, then you'll be blind.

Yeah.

You glasses-hiding antics don't sound so fun anymore, do they?

Anyways, if this continues, then I'll be forced to take some sort of action.

Not sure what kind of action(you really can't sue yourself, so no legal action),

but I will take action. And you will PAY.

Hear that?

YOU WILL PAY.

With anger and no sight,

Current Felicity

Dear ice cream,

You're seriously issue-matic.

You're so... tempting.

But so, so bad for me.

I wish I could just live on ice cream.

But that would make me die.

And it would really suck to die because you ate too much ice cream.

Think of explaining that to people in hell.

Seriously, it'd be really embarrassing.

I think that we need a counseling appointment.

Because we have a serious issue in our relationship.
And that issue is that you're trying to murder me.

Seriously.

Love,

Felicity

Dear "Must Love Cats" Guy, (reprise)

YOU'RE SO CREEPY, DUDE.

WHAT.

EVEN.

With a deep concern,

Felicity

Dear tortoise,

Slow and steady wins the race.

Yeah right.

Slow and steady may produce quality results in the long run, but it doesn't win the race.

No way you're beating the hare in the 400m dash.

I honestly think you made that story up, just to make yourself feel better.

It's not good to lie, tortoise.

Just because you're slow and always fail, it doesn't mean you should lie.

Especially if that lie leads to millions of small children thinking that if they just keep going, the faster person in the race will take a nap and they'll win.

That's a ridiculous thought.

Thanks a lot, tortoise.

With a hint of pessimism,

Felicity

Dear World,

I JUST CAN'T EVEN DEAL WITH THIS.

I need a reason. Why is there gravity?

Why is there life?

Why is the number 9 so ugly?

These abstract concepts don't count as explanations. 

Because it's not the why.
It's just how. And I don't give a sheep about how.

I hate the answer "because it is."

I hate it.

I have this feeling deep inside, nestled right next to my left lung, that makes me nervous when there's no reason for something. When it's just like that because it is.

It makes me want to pull my hair out and cry and ask why until someone can finally answer me.

Just. WHY?

Urgh. Even thinking of this is making me really stressed out.

With a nervous feeling right next to my left lung,

Felicity

Dear World,

I. Don't. Care.

I'm too much of a hipster to care.

With love and kisses and rainbows,

Felicity

Dear Facebook,

I'm super confused.

Uhm, since when is "ನಿಮಿಷಗಳು ಬಾಕಿ ಇವೆ" a measure of time?

Well, it's not in any language I know. And it's not in any language that Google Translate knows.

I really think you have some issues, Facebook.

We need to have a talk about you making up times measurements.

It's not okay.

Someone could take you seriously, and think that that was how you measured time forever!

And that would be very, very bad, Facebook.

And all your fault.

With confusion,

Felicity