Feral children

The letter request:

Kids playing in communal driveway/garage and waking me from my afternoon sleep, Sunday morning sleep-in or interrupting good television watching time! Kids scream/it’s dangerous as they are playing on a DRIVEWAY/ they may scratch my car with their skipping ropes, tennis balls, etc. I’ve attempted to confront parents of annoying kids but parents are just as annoying. Parents stand at one end of the driveway screaming ‘Aaaa – bbeeee’ to their daughter Abby.

 

The letter:

Dear Body Corporate,

I spent my first 18 years living on a main road. I have also lived on Temple Bar. I am the eldest of 32 grandchildren on my mother’s side and I have worked at Centrelink for ten years. This demonstrates that I am aurally tolerant – be it with traffic sounds, people puking outside my bedroom window, children screaming or adults abusing me.

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Please shit on the couch

The letter request:

I would like a letter written from my dog, Jadah, to my husband, Ross. We are having a baby in March and with that means our dog has to move onto another home – I don’t trust a highly strung German Shepherd with a newborn.  Ross is absolutely in love with the dog and whilst she causes him stress and frustration he is going to miss her so much when she goes. We took this dog on when she was a five-year-old runt. She is now going on 10, however she often gets mistaken for a puppy as she is immature, has plenty of energy and no road sense. She is afraid of bikes, trains and trams and does not have very good social skills with other dogs. Ross had so much faith that he could change her behaviour but Jadah is much more stubborn than your average dog. She truly rules our household but we are going to miss her so much.

 

The letter:

Dear Ross,

I’ll be upfront: I never wanted a man.

The idea that every dog should have one has always given me cause to raise an eyebrow (or the spot where an eyebrow would be if I had them). They say that dog is to man what Robin is to Batman or Goose is to Maverick and that this is somehow desirable. They call it being best friends when, in reality, the dog is a mere sidekick. A wingman. The one who sleeps outside in winter while your best friend snuggles on the couch with his wife.

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Be cautious of free-roaming animals

The letter request:

I’m really glad that my friend has fallen in love and is moving to the side of the world but I just want to make sure her new beau realises that we’ve still got her back and we’re fierce over here

 

The letter:

Dear Max,

On behalf of Lucy’s homeland, I just want to tell you how excited we are that you and Lucy are about to build a life together. You are the luckiest man in the world because Lucy is an absolute catch. As I’m sure you already know she is gorgeous, super smart, fun, a true friend, a fabulous cook, always up for frivolity and an expert in all things Lego.

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Let’s talk about Jake Gyllenhaal

The letter request:

I need you to write a letter to this guy that I’m apparently going to be seated next to at my friend’s wedding. My friends have said he’s single and perfect for me so I’ve been Facebook stalking him. I can’t get into his account, I can see just his pictures cos we have a few mutual friends. I feel like I know so much about him already and can imagine our life together!

 

The letter:

Dear Facebook Boy,

This confession is a strange one so, before reading, please be assured that I look nothing like Glenn Close and I don’t dig on boiled bunny.

My friend is getting married next month. Because girls tend to discuss the most minute details of life, I’ve been briefed on the seating plan for the wedding and apparently I’m sitting next to you. My friend says this is serendipitous because you are hot and single and we will hit it off.

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We are good together

The letter request:

We were together. We are no longer together. I still want to be with him. Or, with him again. We are good together. When we met he was freshly out of a relationship and still in love with his ex. I broke it off because I was falling in love with him and worried that I was just a rebound. It’s been a month since the break-off, and we see each other a lot. We watched a few World Cup games with friends, go out in groups, but always with safe distance. We’ve talked, and he can see himself with both me and his ex. I probably shouldn’t have broken it off, but I was scared and silly.

 

The letter request:

Dear Gus,

I want to tell you a story – some of it you already know, some of it you even helped write, some of it may come as a complete surprise (as it did to me) but stay with me, because I reckon there’s a chance of a happy ending.

This is the part you already know: We were together. We are no longer together.

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Brave and smart

Dear Mel,

If we had super powers and could make stuff happen we would genetically engineer humans so that, when someone is emotionally available, their head lights up like a vacant taxi ready to drop you home. We’d then make it so, if they weren’t emotionally available, they’d glide by in the cover of darkness and you wouldn’t pay them a second glance. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice they were there at all.

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Erbium (Er) or Bismuth (Bi)

The letter request:

I want to say thank you for spending the morning in court with me when it was at expense to him. For generally being massively supportive and an excellent loyal friend. Also I am pleased he’s now in a stable relationship. This makes me happy.

 

The letter:

Dear Damon,

Some people say every cloud has a silver lining. I don’t keep a spreadsheet to track my misfortunes so I don’t know if this is always true but with this particular storm cloud, the silver is gleaming at me like gold.

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A walking piece of art

The letter request:

I have a letter that I have been meaning to write a friend, a kindred spirit that I do not speak with often, but our connection is so strong that whenever we communicate it’s like it was just yesterday. Gillian and I bonded over our love for poetry, in particular ee cummings. We haven’t seen each other in person since the summer of 2003. She is an accomplished artist, graphic designer, poet, walking piece of art. I have a place in my heart for her that no one could fill. This letter that I have envisioned has been built up in my head to the point where I can’t even begin to start it.

 

The letter:

Dear Gillian,

There once was a Walking Piece of Art called Girl and a Kindred Spirit called Boy. Girl and Boy met long ago. So long ago that all other days surrounding the days they spent together are now sepia-colored and blurry.

This is okay though, it happens with time. Words that were once deafening like ‘love’ and ‘hate’ get muffled by a roaring train, the electric shock of a boy’s knee touching a girl’s passes into a memory of an electric shock as if it were only ever a dream, a dream from weeks ago.

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The alcopops stay in the fridge

The letter request:

Virgin Mobile keeps sending me bills for $0.00. I’ve called them several times and they’ve confirmed over the phone that I have no outstanding payments due, but the bills for zero dollars keep coming. Now they’ve sent me a final notice which threatens to cut off my service if I don’t pay them… nothing. Please help.

 

The letter:

Dear Virgin Mobile,

The history of numbers goes back a long way. I saw a documentary about this once – it was really interesting despite the crappy re-enactments. It’s pretty complex but, in a nutshell, the earliest known base 10 system (they system we use today) dates back to 3100 BC in Egypt.

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Auf wiedersehen

The letter request:

About a month ago I started hanging out with this girl, who I find incredibly beautiful, smart, funny and a wee bit strange. Things were going good in a relaxed and casual way, until… she freaked out. We talked about it, and she explained what happened but then I got a text saying we shouldn’t see each other anymore. Since then I’ve been trying to meet up with her, but she seems more and more distant and less and less interested. She’s leaving and won’t talk to me – I’d really like to meet up with her at least once before she goes back to Germany forever. I miss spending time with her.

 

The letter:

Dear Heike,

This is something that could happen…

I send this letter. You don’t respond. On the 22 April 2010, you fly back to Germany. We never see each other again.

You move into a flat that’s poky but gets lots of sunlight, even in wintertime when the sky is heavy and so low you can reach up and skim it with your fingertips. Despite the fact you’re mega smart, you struggle to find your dream job. Times are tough, so they keep telling us.

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