seeking advice from a childhood hero

Dear Mr. Silverstein,

        My name is Brianna M. Chapman and I am an avid reader of your books. I can't remember a time in my life when "The Missing Piece Meets the Big O" has not been sitting on a bookshelf in one of my many childhood homes, as a constant in my ever-changing environment. Your work is a treasured part of my childhood and I thank you for contributing to my voracious appetite for literature that sprouted at a young age. However, I regret to inform you that this is not an appreciation letter, but that, sir, I have a bone to pick with you.
          The grievance I would like to share with you is with your work, "The Giving Tree". This seems to be one of your most known works and I know many who give it a special place in their heart due to its lesson of giving. Well, I beg to differ, sir. Let's recap what happens in the book for a moment, shall we? There is a tree and there is a boy. The tree loves the boy, who as time progresses, grows older and loses touch with the tree, except when he needs something. The tree continues to give and give until it is nothing, but a stump and the tree is only happy when being used by the boy in some manner.
           Now, Sir, I ask you, what is the "feel good" message behind this? I know the point is to give. I got that from the title, but why does the tree continually give to the boy with nothing in return and why is the tree's happiness dependent on the boy using her? Is the tree not good enough without the boy to be happy on her own? The ending, I'm sure, is supposed to tie everything together with a neat, bright-colored ribbon made into a bow, but the tree is once again only an object of use to the boy. Thomas Mill would be proud for her utilitarianism and Socrates her ability to find pleasure in her duty, but I lack this affection towards these ideals. Why does the boy not appreciate the tree for who she is, not what she can do for him? Why is it okay for the tree to give over all of herself to the boy and the boy only come back when he needs something from her? Where is the fairness to the tree in all of this?
           I don't mean to come off harsh, Mr. Silverstein. All this could be because as of late, I've had a particular disdain for love. You see, sir, I found myself to be the tree, constantly giving of myself, in a non-literal way, in hopes that this person would do the same and that all would be right, but you know what, sir? That did not happen. I don't feel that way about this person anymore, I actually don't really feel anything towards them and them likewise towards myself, but the incident left me slightly sour on the idea of giving up oneself for another person's benefit. Where do we establish that point where the giving stops? I don't want to become hardened and selfish, but where do we say enough is enough, I have to take care of my own heart, or is there an end? Do we constantly give, seeking nothing in return, even though we know it will end up in heartache at sometime or another?
        Sir, I don't want to end up like the tree again. To be an object of utility holds no appeal to me, but at the same time, I don't want to become cold and put up barriers to letting others in. I figure that between the two of us, we can come up with an answer. Thank you for taking the time to read this. I truly am immensely grateful to you and your work as it has taught me much about life thus far. Simply said, sir, Thank you. 

                                                       Sincerely,
                                                              Brianna Margaret Chapman
                                                               Former Tree

[Disclaimer: I would have sent this, but seeing as Shel Silverstein passed away in May of 1999, it makes its home here instead.]

chalk this one up to chance

There is no way this person could have known. I mean, it's not a big secret or something I hide at all. It's not the hiding kind. But still, there is no way this person could have known, right? Unless they had overheard a conversation or somehow tapped into my subconscious and pulled the information right out of my head, it wouldn't be a possibility for them to have known this fact about myself. It's merely a coincidence. There is no such thing as fate. The whole thing is kind of funny in a sad, pathetic kind of way. 

I mean, what isn't funny about having to hear someone who hurt you sing your favorite song?

let's get reacquainted

Well, I've been absent from just about everything lately. Don't feel so bad if you haven't known everything that has been going on, because well, not much has honestly been going on. That's sort of a lie, but just sort of. Things have been going on, but not that i would like to talk about or have anything to say about. What a conundrum of sorts to be in. I'll be glad when this semester is over, but the uncertainty of summer still sits over my head right now. Remembering what i thought summer would be like in October makes me want to laugh and cry simultaneously. My how things change.

Silly, isn't it? Making plans. Recently, at a place I'd soon like to forget, i saw a sticker that said, "we must be willing to give up the life that we have planned in order to live the life that is waiting for us." I'm not quite sure how I feel about this, but then again, I am a planner. My moleskine might submit a restraining order soon if I don't stop overusing him. At the same time, I'm not a fan of the concept that life is waiting for me in the destiny sense. If life is all based on fate, I was dealt an unfair hand. Fate lacks comfort for me that others find so readily in it.

I don't really feel like I need to recap what all has happened as of late. Nor do I particularly want to. Things are consistent. I'm still Brianna. I still don't like exclamation marks. I still think rain is the best form of weather and the scent of lavender makes the blues go away. Things change, but they also stay the same.

Someone told me recently that she didn't mean to offend me, but that I seem distant and that I like to be private. By this, I'm fairly certain she meant to say that I come off as cold, when I'm actually not, but that she didn't want to say that. Rather than taking offense, I thought it was hilarious. I'm not sure what this says about me. I've been finding the worst possible things funny lately. Things that should hurt me, but instead, making me want to burst out in laughter. It's different and I'm not sure if I want it to go away. It's sort of refreshing, in a "I'm rubber, you're glue" sort of way.

This wasn't coherent, but bear with me.

please.