Dear giant empty economy size bottle of KY warming massage oil that my mom keeps in Soph's bath toys at her house,
OK, so apparently you're great for filling with water and then squirting it around the bathtub, but doood! It's just WAY too disturbing to pull out the box and find you nestled among the rubber duckies and plastic funnels. The implications of your existence are just too, too, icky. So don't take it personally if the next time I see you, I throw you in the trash where you belong. Sorry.
Dear half deflated birthday balloon that was floating around my room last night,
Thanks for scaring the freaking bujesus out of me. Laying in my bed at 3:00 a.m. trying to convince myself that you weren't a ghost or other spectral being was GT. Really.
Dear Coconut Body Butter I got from my birthday,
Even though I don't know if I'd rather eat you or rub you all over my skin, either way you're truly, truly delicious.
Dear grande iced sugar free 2% vanilla latte with no whip,
I think it's time for a break. It's gotten to where I can't imagine my day without you, and I think I need to learn to stand on my own two feet again. I just need to figure out who I am before I can figure out who WE are. What I'm saying is, it's not you, it's me.