I thought the occasion seemed nice to write a letter to myself- or parts of my body to be more precise, as I slowly make my transformation into a prehistoric creature. ;]

PS: I can't change the mood. >[

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Dear Eyes,

I'm sorry I keep damaging you more and more each year, those long hours staring at the computer screen have not done you justice and I apologise for it. I'm aware now that you will never change colour in a super speshal way, except for that one time when you turned a bloodshot red after my brothers performed the snoring orchestra one night. I'm sorry I always ignore you when you tell me you need rest, and when I do listen to you, both my brother I get angry when we lie in bed thinking we could still be playing Age of Conan until the garbage truck comes. Nevertheless, Eyes you are special to me, I pray that I won't continue damaging you as I drain my life away on AoC.

Take care, and happy birthday.

Dear Hair,

I really should take more care with you, I'm sorry I have never really bothered to make you look nice. I always pull you back in that ordinary ponytail and tying you, every tedious morning has proved to be quite a chore. You poof up on me, get caught between doors, and yanked by at least one person or two or four. That dark, dark, dark brown colour has never once been changed, and that's how it'll stay until I'm winkled and old. Hair, you are such a pain to brush, it's like trying to straighten a jungle with balls of tangled hair, sometimes I wish I could just cut you, but then I'll get sad to see you go. I've had so many bad times with you, and yet hair, I wish you all the best and hope that you don't go grey until a very long, long, long, long, long, long, longlonglonglonglonglonglonglong time.

Happy birthday.

Dear Lips,

I've always thought you resembled a fish mouth, but maybe that's just my imagination working there. I've never had a problem with you lips, but I'll have to admit that maybe I should use some Vaseline to cure that dry, peeling problem I keep forgetting to fix. Lips, you've served me well for I have nothing more to say about you, or this could just be an excuse for the fact that I'm starting to lose interest in these series of letters. Wait, scratch that entire sentence.

Happy birthday, dear lips.

Dear Fingers,

Oh fingers, you are long- maybe too long and skinny and I do believe that you may be the most wrinkly thing I've ever took notice of on my entire body. Fingers, you produce narrow skinny writing and type with only one finger on each hand, and now I'm confused if that's something, I should be proud or ashamed of. How long and lanky you are fingers, sending shock to the people who take one glance at you, would I consider you my one distinguishing feature? After all, from you spawned a variety of nicknames all of which I can't help but find absolutely hilarious. Fingers, you make me laugh.

Thank you, happy birthday.

Dear Body,

I'm sorry I've never been bothered to pamper you as much as I should've, I never dress you in designer labels or anything that comes off as 'In' or stylish, most of all I sincerely apologise for going out dressed in what would be considered my pyjamas to the very least. I'm sorry I have never exposed you to how it would feel to have people step on your back in a relaxing manner; I think that's a called a massage. I'm sorry I never stood in front of a mirror, posed in an appealing sort of way, and thought to myself 'Damn, girl you're lookin' fine!' However, body I like you in casual clothing, I like how you feel relax to playing games and how you do me hell every dreary Monday morning.

Body, happy birthday.

xx

By the end of this letter, you would've realised that you wasted a couple minutes of your life, and so have I by typing it.

Btw, I would really like to thank all my friends for making my day wonderful on Friday. Somehow, I kinda wish my real birthday was on that day instead. Thank you so much!