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Jealousy


Sometimes when good things happen to people I know, I’m jealous that it didn’t happen to me.

I just won the lottery. Jealous.

Today’s letter was written by Anonymous Twitter: Blog: Written From: The red eye of Jupiter
5 were inspired.Were you inspired?

I Am Joseph Kony

Dear Naked World Changer, It’s ironic isn’t it? We ask for young leaders like you to stand up and lead us in the fight for humanity; for what we believe in. We ask for young leaders to change the world. Yet as soon as someone like you emerges, we are quick to ridicule, criticize and ostracize. In a few short days, your film had been seen more than 100 million times. People passionately supported your call for justice. They signed up in droves to blanket cities with posters and pictures so that everyone who woke up this morning would know the name of Joseph Kony. Today, I saw 3 posters. People have said your mission failed. They have said that you failed. And from some perspectives that may be true. But today, I did not see that a mission failed. I did not see that the vision of bringing a destroyer of humanity to justice had been derailed. I saw something entirely different. I saw the sheer torture and torment that a narcissistic society is capable of bestowing on their prey. I saw the devastation and scars that were left by the hypocrites who say they want to change the world before they cast the first stone. We lifted you up, and tore you down in a matter of hours. We embodied your heart and passion for justice before sucking the very life from your bones in the same breath. We cried as we watched your masterpiece then mocked as you danced naked in the street. We engaged and shot you to the moon then stood back with indifference as we watched you plummet to earth. Kony needs to be brought to justice. There is no doubt. He is visible, and will one day get what he deserves. But what about the terrorists that torment souls each and every day in silence and anonymity? What about those who destroy lives while hiding behind computer screens and Twitter usernames? Are we any different than the men who destroy lives with guns and machetes? I am Joseph Kony. I am not the man you made famous. No. I still have the luxury of destroying lives without anyone seeing my face or knowing my name. I am fortunate enough to live in a society that devours their own without consequence. I have destroyed your life and I will no doubt do it again. I am Joseph Kony; and I pray to god you find me and bring me to justice. From the darkest part of my soul, – Dave
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Dear Crazy Ass Lady

Dear Crazy Ass Lady, You frustrate me beyond belief. I can’t even believe that I wasted an hour of my day talking in circles while you rambled on about moot points and useless details about your temporary bank card, only to end up saying the exact same thing I told you 30 times in the previous 45 minutes. What makes it worse is that you ruined my day. You put me on edge and I allowed you to dictate how I reacted to every other circumstance that came along today. I hate you for that. There are only two possible explanations for what happened today: 1. You are bat-shit crazy 2. I’m the shit crazy one, assuming that everything about our conversation was revolving around me and how “not crazy” I am. For all I know, you have a ton of stuff going on in your life that is so much bigger than your debit card, you just needed an outlet. I’m pretty sure it was the first reason ’cause I know I’m not crazy. (Durp) – Dave PS – I’m sorry.
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The Asshole Has Yet To Die

Dear Rainbow Bright, I’ll be honest, when I first saw you the only thing that popped into my head was how difficult it must be to pick out your clothes so that they match your rainbow coloured hair. That and why the hell would anyone colour their hair and dress the way that you do. But after my “cooler than you” finally took a seat, I wondered how many people’s day you brightened simply by gracing them with your presence (which I’m assuming is as bright and colourful as your appearance). I often, and by often I mean very often, pride myself in the fact that I am a completely different person than the immature, selfish, arrogant asshole I used to be. Truth is, I have lot of work to do yet and I’m sorry it took a few laughs from a 3rd story window at your expense to realize that. Don’t let anyone change the way you express yourself and your beautiful personality; especially assholes like me. – Dave
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Dear Silent Punching Bag

Dear Silent Punching Bag, The uncontrollable shrieking tearing through the building as dozens of on-lookers watched the unfolding scene was a far cry from the timid boy I watched you graciously escort to the washroom only minutes earlier. The two of you were out of my sight but I was less interested in what had disrupted your autistic student and more interested in how those around me would react. Children were pulled closer, some ran to see, and every head was turned in your direction. As I watched you emerge from around the corner, shirt torn at the collar and sleeves hanging on by a thread, I could only imagine what was going through the gawkers' heads. But what I noticed as you escorted the still screaming teen out of the building in a style not unlike that of a police officer detaining a dangerous suspect was the calm on your face and compassion in your eye.  Although barely beyond teenage years yourself you remained poised and new exactly what was needed. Seeing you re-enter the building with your shredded shirt hanging off your shoulders, accompanied by a now calm and silent young man and deflecting judgmental stares from every direction, I wanted nothing more than to run up and say "Thank you." You didn't give up. The day at the indoor playground was not about you but rather a special outing for your friend. Your courage and poise are something that I admire and hope to have one day. That young man is lucky to have you by his side.
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If there was a return for our defective parts, we’d all be perfect (and lacking in character)

Dear Self-Conscious Mail Collector, Our only encounter was one that was filled with a deafening silence. As I watched you sheepishly fish your little hand around inside the mailbox which most likely contained bills and flyers I could sense that you felt a little uneasy. I stood patiently and shifted on my feet a bit so you wouldn't notice that I was actually inching further away; trying desparately to ease the awkward tension. It wasn't until you turned the lock on your mailbox door and stepped back toward that street that I noticed the source of your angst: your plastic leg brace. As I watched you involuntarily hobble down the street with your head hung low, averting any eye contact with those passing by I could tell that you wished for nothing more than to shrink into oblivion. What struck me more than your intense self-consciousness at the mere of maybe 8, was the pain that I felt knowing that it was people like me who made you feel that way. Whether it's kids at school or their parents who let their gaze linger on your encased calf longer than necessary, we are the ones who make you feel defective . . . broken. Here's a little secret: we're all defective and broken. We're just good at pretending we're not. One day your leg will heal and you will walk tall while the rest of us continue to hide the brokeness we pretend we don't have.
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Your Value is Not For Us To Determine

Dear Wide Eyed Graduate, I often wonder what's going through your head. A lot of people write you off because you're from a "spoiled" generation who doesn't know the meaning of "hard work". All you do is text and tweet and can't have real engaging conversations because your attention span is 140 characters or less. You know what I say? PROVE THEM WRONG! Don't buy into their system or their illicit view of you. Do great work and change the world.  -Dave
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Another Year Come and Gone (So Are My Feet)

Dear Out Of Shape 28 Year Old, 27 wasn't overly kind to you was it. That extra gray hair & belly snuck up on you didn't it. When was the last time you looked down and saw your feet without having to lean forward? That's what I thought. Happy   birthday!! (Screw you mirror.)
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My Assumptions Will Destroy You

Dear French Traveller, I wonder how many times you've been treated poorly simply because of your appearance. I humbly admit that I was somewhat cautious when I saw you for the first time. I'm sorry for my immediate distrust. I promise it will be different next time.  -Dave