An Explanation




To Whom It May Concern:

I don’t have to explain myself to you.  As people there comes a time in life when we are given the opportunity to tell our story.

“How are you?”

“What is your name?”

“Where do you work?”

“Where did you go to school?”

“What did you study?”


All of these questions are small dosages intended to piece together the necessary frame another must form for you in their mind.  They are the bare essentials to compare their life to yours.  It’s all they need to decide your value to them.  Hardly ever has someone ever said, “What’s your story?”  No one cares.

I don’t have to explain myself to you.  I want to tell my story.  I want to share all of the details you don’t care to even hear simply because they’re important to me.  They make me who I am.  This is for me.  I want to remember.  I want you to remember me.  How badly we want to be remembered…how hard we try to remember correctly…

I don’t have to explain myself to you.  I just want you to know me.  Dissect my loves and feel the beats.  Understand why my hair is so long.  Taste Libby’s cherry tongue and smell Mr. Ashley’s burning hide.  Feel Jarred feeling me.



P. S. I had an asthma attack today.


Posted on October 27, 2016, in Dark Comedy, Fiction, Jared Letters, Letter, poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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