Dear Number Seven,
I am writing to express my confusion over some arguments that you have made back in either September or October.
Remember when you brought up my bitterness of you owning a watch winder, and how I thought you were just a typical Caucasian male who thinks he is the best just because he made a large amount of cash in one day for designing a website, and that graphic design (your course) really just takes no skill to get into?
Well, all that I’ve said remains true to this day and your rebuttals, however, seem to have little holes in them.
Let’s start with the one where you seem to be adamant about: money.
You seem to be in the belief that you are better than me because of your financial status, yet it seems clear to me that the USD$1,000 deal was a one-time thing. That is really cute because I am now working at a firm that has me making the same amount every month — and it’s not a one-time thing.
And, to make it clear, it is my job. Which means, in a more simpler term for you, it’s my money.
Now, this might come as a shock to you because you’re in a very silly belief that your course has a better job opportunity than mine. Even though it seems to me that you have never really worked a day in your life, you obviously made $1,000 in a day, so what do I know, right?
It is also really interesting for me to know that you are currently on student loans, while I am not. It seems to me that you are unable to properly finance your own studies, despite your constant cries of being a very, very rich boy. On the other hand, I have heard that you are on student loans for a more authentic ‘University student experience.’ For that, I have no comment on.
And here is your second (and last) insult to me: the quality of my writing.
I hope I’m not getting this wrong, but I thought that, in order to see whether or not something is of a bad quality, you must at least have the ability to create the same thing but of a higher quality — that, or you must be able to have a trained eye to be able to pick out its issues and have the mind to process said information.
You, however, seem to lack all of those. If this piece of common sense serves me correctly, then I think you must be able to at least read in English to be able to tell me that my writing is bad. You, however, could barely be passed as a literate person despite English being your first (and only) language.
Considering that I can, in fact, spell words like ‘happiness’ and ‘obviously,’ it would seem like you’re practically illiterate. Are you sure you do not need to take an IELTS exam? Are you sure you are able to top my 8 out of 9 score on the first go, completely unprepared?
Now, at the core, you make it feel as though you are more superior than me when I admit that I was a bit peeved you got into graphic design while I did not. That is indeed true — because how can they accept such a talentless white loaf of bread into the program when I’m here? Haha, that was a joke, but I don’t think you could have understood it anyway.
Well, in all honesty, I am more talented than you. I speak three languages while you can only speak one (and that’s me being very, very generous with my choice of words). I am learning even more languages and I even self-teach myself other things, like coding and video editing. Not to mention that I know how to spell words and use grammar.
Truly, it must be a blessing to be able to press a few buttons on a designing program that is designed to make your job easier and make some pretty pictures for old men to jerk off to.
You work so hard and you are very skilled.
But, what do I know, right? I’ve accepted my future job position as a 7-11 worker and that my writing is bad. It is, absolutely. It’s so bad that you couldn’t even understand half of the words I’ve used in this letter, right? I know, I know. Maybe I should use smarter words, like ‘dummy’ and ‘poopy-poo.’
You know, words that you can read?
I’m sure that your watch winder can save you, though. Sell it and then use the money to get some condoms, and make sure the men who wear them don’t poke holes in them. You can also be rest assured that your super talented and very valued skills would be put to good use — to design something that people would only glance at for a second before proceeding to read (something you’re unable to do) the contents that had been written (something that you also cannot do, but guess who can!).
Half of Number Six.
(Because I had a roommate, remember? I’m surprised that you didn’t message her about talking loudly at night. I’m also surprised she hasn’t messaged you about having sexual relations loudly at night. I’m surprised you could even butcher the spelling of ‘possibly.’)
P.S. Don’t blame your parent(s) for your horrible behavior. You are your own person and every choice you make is your own. There is no excuse for being a bad person. There is no reason for being a bad person. There is just you, sitting there, being a horrible person and then blaming it on other things because you are immature enough to refuse to acknowledge your issues are caused by your own hands.
I admit that I was wrong to insult you on a public social media platform. I should have done it on a private account on said public social media platform. I also admit that, as a teenager, I had done terrible things that were lead by my emotions and pride and I had since apologized for them and recognized my faults. I have since shed my pesky teenage emotions and have come to understand that everyone can change for the better and listen to logic.
I hope you are able to do so by the end of the year. If you cannot, then I’m sorry, you’re destined to be throwing tantrums whenever your cat fails to give you a new mother.
P.P.S. The money is mine. I got them from all the red pockets that I’ve collected over the years, ever since I was born.
Categories: an open letter