Not my letter. Just a random letter. Handwritten, too. Fancy that.

An open letter to nobody

Dear figment of my imagination,

I hope you are well. How are things? The weather here is fine. Actually, it’s somewhat miserable, but you don’t need to know that. How are things? Did I already ask that?

I have some important points to make. I don’t remember what they are at this point in time but I am sure they may resurface by the time I have come to the end of this letter.

Something to do with the fact that I disagree with your opinion on certain matters; the way you comport yourself; the way you contort your face while rattling off dogma. Things like that.

Or perhaps you remind me of the badness within myself.