By Mia Hanuska
Dear the materialization of nightmares,
Glitter. Eugh, glitter. You have plagued my life since I slid out of my mother’s womb over sixteen long years ago. Ever since the tips of my ten phalanges graced over a shirt embossed in you, and you branded me with your lilliputian specks of reflection, I have disgraced your name whenever it arises during any heart-to-hearts I experience. The two-legged homosapien who chose to birth you into existence should be ashamed. Now, when my rarely adventuring soul appears in the isle of crafts, I scowl at the innocent geometric bottles oversaturated with you. The Earth next to your ledge foreshadows your terror, looking like a battleground similar to one after unseasoned breathing organisms spar over the final vessel of discounted mayonnaise. When I finally move to secure my chosen goods, the surfaces at checkout are covered in impenetrable layers of you. You repulse me. I cannot elude you, despite my extreme endeavors. Do the wrappings of my offerings really require your presence? Next thing I know, even my life’s expiration paper will have you disgracing the edges.
You tuck yourself in the crannies of everything: clothing, hollow rectangular prisms, foot coverings—the list is boundless. Having the dishonor of you in my limited breathing time has contributed to my survival’s devastation. I refuse to accept any glitterified items; I cannot welcome your villain nature to my comforting abode.
Plus, you wreck the beautiful organisms. The dimwitted under-the-wave surfers munch on you, believing you’re substance. Now, I resent the finned and flippered as much as Hellen Keller deniers enjoy admitting she existed, but even I wouldn’t want all of them floating upside down in nature’s bathroom. What did the creatures do to you? The entire oxygenated globe regrets your prevalence. Please refrain from continuing to multiply.
Dull regards,
Mia Hanuska