Dear passive-aggressive teenagers,

You're making me be passive-aggressive.

Even though I hate passive-aggressiveness.

I will barf on you.

-Felicity

Dear sketch-a-licious Wal-Mart and Rite-Aid shoppers,

Yes, I understand that you like my bag. It is a very nice bag, and I agree with you.

It is okay to say "Nice bag" or "Nice purse", but I would sincerely appreciate if you left it at that.

I would not like to have a conversation about my bag. 

Yes, I'm very aware that it looks like a camera. That is why I'm a fan of it.

 Yes, I'm aware that it is a very nice bag.

But I really get very flustered and embarrassed when you continue to talk about my bag, and then turn to the person next to you and talk about my bag with them.

It's UNUSUAL.

Please, stop.

Thank you,

Felicity

Dear bed,

Thank you fro having wheels.

I think that my life would be missing so much hilarity if you didn't have wheels.

Like when I wake up between you and the wall because I somehow moved you while I slept.

Or when Kenzy tries to push you against the wall, but because of your wheels you just bounce back.

And after a while, Kenzy's standing at the foot of my bed, pelvic-thrusting and yelling "I CAN'T WIN!"

Honestly, none of these things would be possible if you didn't have wheels.

However, you totally suck for making my back hurt forever.

I need a stupid form mattress or something.

Or perhaps I should actually use a pillow?

I don't know.

Love and a little hate,

Felicity

Dear neighbors,

Kay, you know what's not cool?

Being loud at 9 am.

You know what's even uncool-er?

Yelling at your neighbors for being loud, but being louder than them in the process.

All I hear, right after waking up, is:

"Keep it down! Keep it down!"

All I can imagine is that there is a person who is surely going to murder me then stuff my body in some small German village's only well. Then, I hear:

"You keep it down! You're being too loud!"

And then I'm pissed. I just thought I was going to be murdered, because of this?! Because of some petty neighbor fight? I was about to pee, out of fear, because no one on the stupid street can shut up?

And I was still scared, because there was a possibility that this would turn into some brawl.

I hate you all, neighbors. All of you.

And an illustration of my 9 am fear, just for the fun of it:

With lots of words I'm not allowed to say,

Felicity

Dear F#m9,

F sharp minor ninth.

You suck.

I hate you, F#m9. And there are very few things I hate.

You are part of the exclusive club of things that I would like to rid from the surface of the Earth.

You, in fact, are the only member.

That's how much you suck.

You are a very ugly chord.
I think that I could actually produce a better sounding chord if I had my cat sit on the keys of my piano.
A toddler wildly slamming his hands on a keyboard sounds better than you.

Every time I hear you, my ears bleed and I'm tempted to rip out my own hair.

 In case you need a visual, here:

You, of course, are the music note floating to the right.

The thing around you is your cloud of evil.

I'm the girl to the left. My ears are projectile squirting blood. And I've ripped out tufts of my hair.

My nose has also disappeared, because it could smell how horrible you sound.

That actually happens whenever I hear you, F#m9. Or whenever someone dares to mention your ugly name.

Which is why I hate you. So much.

With hatred,

Felicity 

Dear Nyan Cat,

Nyanyanyanyanyan.

This website may be the most annoying, yet pleasing thing ever.

Seriously.

Nyanyanyan,

Felicity

Dear person,

You wanted a blog post about you.

Here it is.

You're conceited. You think you are my only friend. The only one who 'helps' me.

Well, truth is, you don't help me. You just hurt me. Over and over and over again.

You think you're the only one that I ever talk about.

That everything negative I say is about you.

Well, truth is, I have plenty of people to complain about. 

And I don't make a habit of wasting my time complaining about you.

Hey, babe, guess what? The world revolves around something, but it's the sun, not your gigantic ego.

You DON'T accept me. You blatantly shove your views down my throat.

I'm done with you.

Thanks for nothing. I'd say thanks for the memories, but they sucked.

Signed,

Felicity

Dear Facebook (reprise),

I don't speak Danish!

Do I seem like I speak Danish, Facebook?

Have I ever spoken Danish before?

What's with your obsession with including random languages that I don't know on my English Facebook?

It's not ok!

You really need to talk about your speaking problems with someone, perhaps a therapist, rather than taking them out on me.

Because I don't speak Danish.
And I won't learn it just to please you, because peer pressure is bad!
That's probably why you're doing this, isn't it, Facebook?
Someone pressured you into learning Danish and now no one speaks it with you and that makes you angry, so you take it out on me because you love confusing me with your various languages that I don't speak.
Not cool, Facebook, not cool at all.

Hugs and kisses and hatred,

Felicity

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  

Dear home,

I missed you I missed you I missed you.

I guess I didn't really realize how great it is to sleep uncomfortably on the living room chair until I couldn't for four whole days.

However, home, you seem to have let yourself go a bit.

You're a little dingy and dirty looking.

I know you missed me, but that's no excuse to stop keeping up with your hygine!

But I still accept you.

And I still missed you.

And I'm still so glad to be here!

Love,

Felicity

Dear hallway door,

Duck you. Seriously.

I just wanted to go asleep, but you had to creak and open and close until 1 am.

That was a really mean thing to do.

Because I couldn't fall asleep because of you but I didn't want to go to close you because you could've been opening and closing because of a serial killer who was trying to trick me.

So, I just stayed up, terrified, until the wind stopped and you finally shut up.

Thanks to you, I'm really really tired.

I hope you're happy about yourself.

With the burning anger that only a short-tempered 14 year old girl can posses,

Felicity