An open letter from my glasses to me.

Dear Jeff,

We've been together a long time. You and I, we've had some great times together. We go everywhere together, except to play contact sports. When you went away to school, I was right there by your side to make you look smart. When you went to London, it was I who ensured that you always got a good view.

I haven't always kept up with fashion, but I've always been there for you. So why don't you do us all a favor, and quit stepping on me? Seriously, I've had it up to here with your bending me all out of shape with your foot and then trying to fix me up by bending me back into shape with your hands, like nothing ever happened. Just stop! I've treated you with too much kindness and allowed you to see too many wonderful sights to tolerate this kind of disrespect. What the hell were you doing putting me on the floor in the first place? I don't want excuses, and I don't want apologies. What I want is for you to treat me with a bit of dignity and restraint, you callous asshole.

I don't care if you need me. I swear to God if you pull something like this one more time, I'm just going to break on you. I am not kidding. I will do it. You think I look cockeyed now? Mister, you just try me.

And while we're at it, I am through letting you get me dirty or smudging me up and then wiping me off with your shirt like it's no big deal. It may not be a big deal to you, but it is to me! It hurts me that you don't have any more care for me than that. The least you could do is use a soft cloth, or some kind of disposable wipe. I'm not asking for the moon here, only a bit of common courtesy.

You know, maybe it would be better for both of us if we moved on. You can get that new prescription you're always fantasizing about and I can get on with my life. Run off to that newer, younger pair you've always wished you could get your hands on. See if I care. If things go on like this for much longer, I can guarantee you that I won't.

(up) yours,
Your glasses