Letter to my life

Dear life, you need to enter my mind and we need to talk. Don't run away from me because you are scared to tell me what I need to hear, because you don't want to hurt me. Look at me, I am a case of complete ruin, or I will be. You can't just pop over once in a while to say you've missed me and leave when you think I am going to be fine. You can't make me laugh until my mouth is aching and I am coughing and then leave. You can't bluntly suggest that I snack on those KitKat bars I have in my pantry and expect sugar rush to tune me well. No, don't try those orange and super fresh carrots in my fridge. Don't misuse the stress-eater handicap in me into something only for your benefit. You are killing it for me! You can't say I need to get lost, to be found again because excuse me, I am sick of getting lost like for the millionth time. How about you give me directions like a well-functioning GPS and tell me with confidence of where you would like to see me go and not forever ask me to go wherever I want to go because I am a goddamn flower, not a fucking weed. Garden me well and I promise to give you bouquet of flowers every now and then and whenever I can. We are in this shit together, you keep forgetting that and I feel like a shithead for depending too much on you but guess what, I am nothing without you. So stop doing that thing with me that you do, yes, that thing where you sit on that perfectly built swing on an oak tree as you dangle your feet in a mist of cloud and get drunk over a glass of screw driver. With love, your carcass