Dear The Chip On My Shoulder:
It has been a few weeks since you arrived, unpacked your bags, and took up residence on my shoulder--located just past the curve of my neck and up from my collarbone. At first, I didn't mind your appearance. I thought you'd stir up a funk, but after an allotted amount of time, I figured you would leave. After all, everyone has bad moods, but eventually they pass. Well, it's been awhile now, and you've worn out your welcome. No matter how hospitable a person is, there is only so long a guest can stay before they are tossed out on their ear.
It's not that I don't appreciate that you have a job to do. I know you are trying to be the black cloud over my day. And don't think for a moment that I don't enjoy being cynical, sarcastic and bitter, but I would really like to experience something other than frustration and annoyance. You make everything other people say grate on my nerves. I have this overwhelming urge to finger the people in the cars which pass me every morning and yesterday I found myself shouting for no reason,. I even said 'what the fucking fuck', and as a writer, that really isn't a proper use of the English language.
While you linger about, my ability to create is sucked out of me. And the longer you stay, the harder it is for me to spit words out onto the paper. Let's not even talk about the things I have written, how sad and disturbing and misanthropic those things have been. Don't get me wrong, the center of my being is misanthropic, but I'd like to be able to write about sunshine and rainbows and kittens once in awhile. How can I write a happy ending when you're a constant reminder of the evil, greed and horribleness that exists in the world?
Not only that, but you have utterly destroyed my patience. I don't have patience for the world, for my co-workers, or even for myself. You're making this clinging to a pipe-dream thing seem like a bad idea, you're destroying the only thing that makes me happy, you're taking away my creativity. So before I do something rash, like delete every form of communication I have with the outside world, please cease and desist your operation. It's time for you to move on. If you need a recommendation for the next person you can target, let me know, I know a few extra-peppy people who could use with a dose of reality.
It confuses me as to why you even chose me. I know you saw your golden opportunity, you noticed the way things were falling around me and you snuck in there. Couldn't you have just left me to deal with the revolving door of issues? Did you really have to sink your crabby teeth in? I know you won't answer these questions, but hopefully you the point of what I'm saying.
So while you've probably had a great couple of weeks watching me brood and bite and shut myself off from people and things, it's time for you to move along. You have over-stayed your welcome. I wish you luck with all your future endeavours, but as of this moment you're fired.
Yours truly,
T.L Tyson
P.S If you have any further concerns, please direct them towards HR.
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