Thanksgiving.

Dear Aunt Peggy,
In another hour it will be the first Thanksgiving I will spend without you. I still miss you more than I could ever express and I wish you were here every minute of every day. I'm STILL waiting for you to call me. I have to stop myself from calling you all the time.

But if I am thankful for one thing, it is that I got to spend as much time with you as I did. I am blessed to have gotten to spend time with you almost every week for 14 years. Even when you drove me absolutely crazy.

I love you, Aunt Peggy. And I miss you like crazy. Happy Thanksgiving.

love,
Sarai.

In Defense of Short Hair

To the frat boy who seems to think that short hair automatically makes a woman ugly,

In case you haven't looked in the mirror recently, you aren't such a peach yourself.

I promised myself that I wouldn't stoop to your level, because that would be insulting to ME. And my mother used to say "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all." However, my mother also taught me to stand up for what I believe is right. So, instead of letting you continue, I'm going to stop you right there and I won't let you finish.

Boys (I wouldn't call you a man, because real MEN don't act the sexist pig) like to claim that sexism doesn't exist. And, if it does, it is most definitely MISANDRY, because Feminists are all man-hating bull dykes who make it impossible for a perfectly nice man to live with his simple pleasures. Feminists come in and ruin a perfectly good party or a perfectly good lay or a perfectly good "dumb blonde" joke because they're ugly and can't get a man.

The funny thing is that the term "feminist" is not limited to women of a homosexual nature. In fact, there are a lot of MEN (there's that word again and, no, it doesn't mean what YOU think it means) and women of varying sexual orientation, skin color and beauty make up the word. You think you can set limits, but in reality, it has to do with a collective conscience. All of us, who are living in the 21st century, realize that NONE of us are EQUAL until ALL of us are EQUAL. Meaning, that women should be able to *gasp* cut their hair, shave or not shave, dress how they want, etc. All things that men have been able to do.

And yes, Misandry does exist! It exists because BOYS believe that MEN can't express any feminine traits without being "gay," "pussy-whipped" or "weak." Misandry exists because BOYS don't know how to be MEN and they live like petulant assholes for the rest of their lives.

So, welcome to the 21st Century. Believe it or not Women can do any of the following:

* Vote
* Have Sex with WHOMEVER THEY PLEASE
* Dress how they want
* CUT THEIR HAIR
* Drive
* Have as many children as they want
* Go where they want
* Read
* Write
* Not shave their legs, privates or under-arms
* Own their own property
* Get a divorce from an asshole who thinks cutting their hair makes them ugly

Sincerely,
The Girl whose Husband helped her cut her hair short, because she wanted it that way, and who is still beautiful despite your stupidity.

Fighting Racism

Dear Sir,

Originally I would've said that your service was one of the best I've ever been too. And that would be true. I've been in church for most of my life, so I've heard a lot sermons. It is no light compliment to say that it was among the best.

However, the message of your sermon was rendered completely hollow and pointless for me after the comments at dinner after service.

I understand that Mr. P. is not a part of your "flock" and therefore not under your "jurisdiction" so to speak. However, the "joke" he made about our President was not only crass and tasteless, but racist. Being a minister, a speaker for God, you still should have stopped the jokes. And, despite what you said about racism being only aimed at skin color, it was racist toward a different religion as well. One that neither of you know anything about, besides what you've heard in a biased post 9/11 media, I'm sure.

So, here's a bit of a history lesson for you, Islam stems from the same Abrahamic roots as Judaism and Christianity. Islam follows Abraham's other son, Ishmael, as the promised son. Islam is also no more bloody than Christianity and the "terrorists" are such a small percentage of the overall religion as to be likened with "Westboro Baptist Church." The Qur'an, in point of fact, praises Jesus as a prophet of the one true God, Allah, who goes by many different names... Much like Jehovah.

Next point: the Bible says that we are to respect those in authority over us (Romans 13:1-3), as in Government officials. So, whatever President Obama's politics, you are still supposed to honor him as a person placed in authority over you by God. Another verse that comes to mind is "Judge not lest ye be judged." (Matthew 7:1-5) or, if I were to refer to your sermon, "Love one another" (John 13:34-35).

Which brings me to my next point. You said "God is Love." That the only way God could stop being Love would be to stop being God. What is the opposite of Love, sir? I believe that is "Hate." And racism comes from a place of hate. The opposite of God is Satan. The opposite of Love is Hate. Going back to what you said about God is Love, if God is Love then there is no room for hate. And therefore we shouldn't speak words that come from a hate filled place.

Next Point: Racism has almost nothing to do with the color of one's skin. It has to do with preconceived notions and stereotypes. So, being Polish is not the same as being "Polack." And making jokes about someone's intelligence (or lack there of), no matter what you are making the joke about (their hair color, their eye color, etc) is not kind. Nor loving. Please refer to Philippians 4:8.

All of this being said, due to your lack of practicing what you preached, I lost all of the meaning in your message. And all the respect that I had gained for you because of your message.

Sincerely,
Sarai.

Dear Younger Self,

Dear Younger Self,
Tonight I realized something about us, staring at the loaves of "Sunbeam" bread with "Not by bread alone" on the packaging and the little girl's head bowed in prayer.

Donnie said something then, when I refused to buy that bread and picked up a different brand, that made sense. He said that, in a way, the way we grew up was good for me. In that, it caused me to look at things, question things, develop my own opinions, question why I have those opinions.

It was awful, what we went through. I wouldn't change a moment of it though. Everything we have been through, everything we've done was for a reason.

I have to believe it was for a reason.

The majority of the time, you will like who you are. Even though there is still the underlying self-loathing. Even though you still question your every decision. Even though you wish you could just fix everything and make it perfect.

The trials, the tribulations, etc. I promise they will be worth it. At the very least, I believe they will be worth it.

love,
Me.

Dear Body,

Dear Body,
these lungs you keep trying to destroy are actually a part of YOU! STOP IT!
sincerely,
Breathless in B-Town.

Dear Mom,

Dear Mom,
Over the years, I have thought of many things I would like to say to you. Some of them kind and full of love, some of hurt and some of anger. There are so many things that I don't even know where to begin. I suppose I'll start somewhere and go from there.

It hurt my feelings when you told me that I needed to give up my "whimsical attraction to other women." It isn't whimsy, Mom. I am genuinely attracted to other women in a sexual manner. I can't change who I am, and I'm not sure I would want to. I suppose in my mind I thought it would be easy for you to accept me. Uncle Dick, Aunt Janice, Aunt Becky and Uncle Kevin are all homosexual. The statistic in our family is 1 in 3 is homosexual. Somehow I thought that would make you more accepting of my own sexual proclivities. I suppose I shouldn't have assumed that just because we have that statistic that you would be accepting. After all, your grandmothers never came to terms with it either.

It hurts that you are gone so much lately. I feel like I never really get to see you or talk to you. And I feel like when we do hang out you are mad at me. I feel sometimes like you just use me to take care of Chris when you aren't there and that is both annoying and angering.

I'm mad that you stayed married to W. as long as you did. I suppose it's time to admit that. I know you kept clinging to the belief that God gave him to you and I know you keep saying I need to stop being mad at God for it. But if God gave W. to us and God is omnipotent, then God is cruel. He knew what W. was going to do long before he did it. He knew that he was going to starve Chris and beat us. He knew that W. was going to take advantage of you. He knew that W. was going to take advantage of me. He knew W. was going to try to turn Hannah against us. And that he would mostly succeed. But you stayed. And I know you loved him, I know you thought it was somehow God's plan.

I'm not angry that you couldn't defend us anymore. It wouldn't have mattered. W. was going to do what he would, regardless of your intervention. He would have just shamed us into not telling you anyway.

There were good times, though Mom. I do remember some of the good points. Like learning to play chess and trips to the Children's Museum. Learning about Sacajawea and Corrie Ten Boom and heroes of the Bible. There were fishing trips and moments where I felt really close to you. I feel closer to you now than I did then.

I was afraid to be close to you. I was afraid you would die, especially after your massive miscarriage. I was afraid that if I cared more than I already did you would die and I'd be all alone. Sometimes I still feel that way. I'm afraid to love you because I know it will hurt more than anything when you are gone. And we all go at some point or another. I couldn't stand to see you deteriorate the way Grandma Bobbi did. I just couldn't.

I still feel lingering guilt from some of the thoughts I had when I was younger. Thoughts that if you, Chris and Hannah all died that you would all be better off because things were so terrible for a while there. I felt like a terrible daughter and sister because I wanted you to be gone so that you wouldn't suffer. But at the same time I couldn't imagine losing you. And I was afraid to lose you. I'm still afraid to lose you.

You're my best friend, Mom. In spite of hurt feelings and anger and fear. In spite of all that, I can't imagine what it would be like to not have you. And I can't imagine not talking to you on the phone for silly reasons or going to O'Charley's all the time. Or sharing some of my random music with you.

I suppose all of this has just been supposition to say, I love you Mom. More than any other human being on this earth. More than I could ever fully express. And even though you have hurt my feelings and pissed me off, I wouldn't be the person I am today without you. And, most of the time, I'm pretty happy with the person I am. Bisexuality, hatred for God and religion, lack of forgiveness for W., currently divergent political views and all.

love,
Sarai

Dear God,

Dear God (specifically the God of the Christians),
As my darling girlfriend has said, you are one of the most genuinely unpleasant characters in all of written fiction. You're followers are some of the most hypocritical and some of the most foul individuals I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. Not to mention the ones who are just plain batshit insane.

People murder in your name, you know. They use you as a convenient excuse for all their petty bullshit. They hide their actions behind your book. It's a funny thing really, because more than half of them have never read the thing all the way through.

I used to believe in you, you know. I wanted to be a minister. I used to take my bible out and I would preach to the trees. However, a woman shall not have dominion over man. I still have more of your word memorized than I would like (i.e. Matthew 4:4). At least it comes in handy when I'm pointing out the hypocrisy of your followers.

I used to be afraid of going to Hell. And I felt such massive guilt for my attraction to women and my burgeoning sexual affinities. Yes, Lord, I have sinned and fallen far short of the glory of you. That used to bother me. Though, to be brutally honest, I tried to be bothered by it more than I actually was. I haven't been "on fire" for you in a long time.

Mom says I need to forgive you and start talking to you again. She says you are good. I don't believe it. I don't believe in you at all any more.

Previously to this moment I used to believe that you existed in some fashion or other. Recent events however have made think otherwise. Though there are still good things that happen, making me wonder if you are behind it trying to lure me back. Like Obama winning the election. That made me wonder if you weren't real after all. Because I cried out louder than I ever have that he would win. To anything out there. Of course, if that is true, mayhaps it was Krishna or Ra answering my prayers.

Mom says I need to talk to you. She encouraged my desire to be Muslim because she believes you and Allah are the same being. Which I also agree with, for the most part. She tells me that I need to pour my heart out to you. I tell her that I don't believe in you. She refuses to believe in my disbelief. I suppose she has a right to that.

I have never felt more like an atheist than I do now. And I'm not sure if that is a good or bad thing. But I am dried up. I have felt this before. I know believing in you won't make a difference. It is just the way of things. I hate you, but I want to believe in you. Why is that?

Why do I care?

Because the little girl I was survived Hell and wants to believe it was for a reason. I want to believe I have come this far for a purpose and not because you enjoyed toying with me or because you didn't exist at all. I want to believe it was all for a better world. When in reality, I think it was because the world is sick. And I wish I could be like the girl in my favorite series and destroy the swollen and rotting portions of this world, save it from itself. I can't. I can't save the world. And you have left me with this gaping hole where my heart should be.

I tried to give it to you. It wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough. I tried to be perfect. I couldn't shake the desire to be a man. The longing to be with a woman sexually. I couldn't deny those feelings and I couldn't deny the love I had for things that were not of "you." Maybe I have been led astray. Maybe I have been wrong. But I tried. I tried, God. I tried to be a good and faithful servant. And I give up. I'm tired of fighting who I am because I am scared of some being that may or may not exist.

If you can't love me for who I am, for who YOU created me to be, how will I ever survive?

Dear Bill O'Reilly,

Dear Bill O'Reilly,
I would LOVE to inform you that just because you don't speak a language doesn't mean that it is being sung in something other than words.
Also, I would like to say that I used to admire you when I was a kid and watched F

ox News (Faux News) religiously. I'm glad that I stopped being brainwashed by racist and idiotic people like you.
http://www.allkpop.com/2012/11/political-commentator-bill-oreilly-insults-psys-gangnam-style
Sincerely,
Sarai

Dear Self, (part II)

Dear Self,
You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You aren't the strongest person in the world, but you ARE strong. It's time you be a little nicer to you and remember that what hasn't killed you has made you stronger. And everything that has happened has made you who you are today.
Love,
Me.

Dear Self,

Dear Self,
Sometimes, usually when I am alone, I think about what it would be like if I no longer existed. What if I faded into the oblivion and the me that used to be was erased? I think about these things and I think about all the times I tried to make it so.

Dear Self,
You can't let me no longer exist. I can't just give up on the world because I feel like it. It is silly to kill oneself. Selfish and silly, even if at the time the reasons seem right. It's wrong. It's cruel to those around you.

Dear Self,
Sometimes, when I think like that I just wish I still practiced cutting, just to let it out of my skin. It never helps though. It has never actually helped. All it did was create an even deeper self-loathing. The need to extricate myself from my body is strong, but the desire to prove myself better than that is stronger. The desire to make it when there is so much to bring me down and to the brink is what keeps me from all that stupidity. The desire to prove to myself that I am worth all the trouble people have put into me. That I am worth all the time and effort I've put into myself. That is what makes me keep going even though on days, like today, I just want to say "fuck it" and let it all go.

Dear Self,
You can't do that, you know. You can't just give up now. We're finally in a place to be happy. You have to stop conjuring trouble because you are afraid to be happy, afraid the other shoe is about to drop. You can't let it get to you. You can't let YOU get to you.

Dear Self,
You need to love you. I'm sorry I can't say it to you in the mirror. It seems so ridiculous to look at my reflection and tell it that it is loved. Somewhere deep inside of me, I am proud of the person I am and I love that person. But it has gotten so buried over time that I'm starting to lose touch with it. But I promise to keep the hounds at bay and leave the past in the past. We can't keep bringing these pains and these regrets to bed with us. They never help.

Dear Self,
Let. It. Go. Everything that bothers you. Everything that is making you cry. All the doubts and the frustrations and the self-loathing. You have to let it go. Let it go for the both of us.

love,
Sarai

Dear B___,

Dear B___ (and W____),
Despite what you may or may not believe, just because I wear the hijab does not mean that I am weak or able to be bullied. I also, don't tolerate people bullying my friends. You can't possibly believe that you can get away with this. Just because no one wanted to stand up to you before doesn't mean I'll stand down. You have me in the Catch-22, right now, but you won't for long. You'll never change. Which means there will always be something I can use against you. And when the time is right I will do that.

I find it funny that you can't say these terrible things to my face, but you can spew your venom at a completely innocent party. We've been working together for over a year and yet you've never been able to say anything to my face. I know you've been talking behind my back. R___ told me. You know why she told me? Because she truly cares about me, unlike you.

All this time you were attempting to ingratiate yourself into my good opinions. None of it was true. I should've recognized the symptoms of your disease, it's one I've encountered before. Many times, in fact.

And W____, you have broken my heart. I thought, I hoped, that you were just a sheep being lead by B___. I hoped that it was just her strong "personality" that made you behave the way you did. But this, this just tears me up. Because I truly loved you. B___ I could take or leave, but I adored you. I looked at you as another grandmotherly figure. No, we didn't always agree on politics and there was that one awful argument where you told me "God forgive me for what I'm thinking about you right now." But I thought that it was, once again, B___'s bad influence and that you weren't really like that. I see now that I was horrifically mistaken and that you are a far worse monster than I took you for. It both horrifies and nauseates me. I wish I had never cared about you because this is one of the worst feelings I've ever had.

And you both call yourselves Christians. You are part of the reason I don't believe in God anymore, part of the reason I've gone off in search of something to believe in. I would love to say that you are the reason I turned to Allah, but that isn't true. I turned to Allah because I wanted to believe in something and because I have been on this path since high school. Since that first day I brought the KKK out of hiding, I've been playing with this fire and I am going to be burned. I know I will, but at least I will have tried something, whereas you have brought shame upon yourselves and your God.

You may believe that I will back down, but I won't. This is a "Henry Higgins" moment, just you wait. I may come across as a lamb, but I am the tigress and you will have the claws. It's only a matter of when, not if.

In the meantime, I hope that you are happy with yourselves. I know you aren't. I know you are both miserable. Maybe if you weren't so hateful, you would be happy. Maybe if you didn't lie and hate and drag God through the mud, you would be happy and healthy.

As it is, S____ is a better person than you will EVER be and I hope he gets to watch your downfall.

Sincerely,
Sarai

Dear Adam,

Dear Adam,
I forget sometimes, that I have a crush on you. Which seems quite silly, but it happens. I don't talk to you as much as I used to so when we actually get to talk I am always shocked by the strength of the feelings I have always had for you.

I'm so silly. I have written you all sorts of poems and letters before now, confessing said "love." And I do love you. Very much so. I promise not to hold it against you.

It seems crazy that it has been eight years since we met. Can you believe it? You say I'm a cool cat and I make you laugh. And I giggle like a little girl because I love it when you say stuff like that. I love everything about you really. Your sense of humor, your face, YOU.

Do you remember when you first told me that you loved me? We were on the four-wheeler together on Jo's property. Just the two of us and I know she was jealous because she had a crush on you too. And I tried to be independent and refrain from touching you, but then you made the four-wheeler jump so that I had to grab you or fall off. And then I was too, what's the correct word? Too happy to be touching you. You felt wonderful in my arms. I don't mean of that in a sexual manner either. I was just happy to be that close to you.

And I don't quite remember what I said, but you told me you loved me. And I couldn't say it back because I didn't know how, but I've said it a million times since then. Not that it matters, because I don't think you've said it once since that day 8 years ago.

However, it is days like today that remind me all over again why I adore you. I wish we had more days like today. I almost wish I wasn't married so I could tell you all of this for real, see if you would be interested. I know you wouldn't be. Though, as you have said to me "you've not said it, so it is quite unlikely that you 'know' it." Why must you always be right?

Ah, stop it. You are making me feel all squishy on the inside. I wish I had had the courage then, mon ami, to tell you how I felt. Would things be different? Probably not. You would still be half a world away from me, telling me to visit, and I would still be longing for you.

Is it appropriate to tell myself "bonne courage" at this moment? Because I think I need all the courage I can muster to not spoil this lovely friendship with sentiments that can no longer be expressed and followed.

love,
Sarai

Dear Adam,

Dear Adam,
Thank you for helping me destroy my dreams of going to any Asian country ever in such a humorous way. I can always count on you. ;)
love,
Sarai

Dear Memere,

Dear Memere,
I've been writing you a lot lately. I don't know why, but the older I get the more I miss you and the more I want to talk to you. I guess this is our only way to communicate now. Me writing letters to you. Can you read letters where you are? Is there an afterlife? Is there a God?

I thought I would tell you about my life as it stands now, since you aren't here to actually experience it. I am a democrat, first off. The elections are over and I am so happy with our President. I truly adore him and believe he is one of the best presidents ever. Auntie hates him.

I am bisexual, Memere. Would you care? Would I even get up the nerve to tell you if you were still living? I've never actually mentioned it to Auntie, though I haven't hidden it from her. Mom knows, but she pretends it is just a phase. Which hurts, sometimes. It hurts that she can't seem to accept me for who I am. I know I should tell her that some of the things she has sad in the past have hurt my feelings, but I can't bring myself to. Would you be able to accept me?

I am married, which I think I mentioned before. Sometimes I wonder if I married too young, Memere. I care about Donnie, I really do. But lately I keep wishing we hadn't gotten married. Though I don't think I would've enjoyed just living together forever either. That's still frowned upon. I don't know, I just feel like there is a disconnect somewhere and I don't know how to fix it. I feel like I've lost all the feelings I had for him, but I don't want to give up on him because a part of me doesn't want to hurt him. I don't want to give up on this because we've worked too damn hard and too damn long to lose it all now. Maybe I am overreacting because of all the recent stress in my life.

My car broke down and I had to pay $233.63 to get it fixed. AKA: All the money I had saved up. I should be glad it was just the starter and not something worse, but it's hard to be grateful when I know my transmission is getting ready to go and I don't have the money for a new car. Or even a NEWER car. Or even an old car, really.

My darling Memere, you've been gone for fourteen years, and even though you are so very far away from me, I feel almost like you are here with me. It makes me feel a little better, even though I still miss you more than practically anything. I still wish you were here so I could hug you.

I love you.
Sarai