Dear Glasses,
Let me start by saying I do in fact appreciate all that you have done to assist me. The year I met you, my life changed, because I did not have to scrunch up my face anymore and I could finally be one of the people reading the tinier letters on the board. You gave me back the sense I use the most. You help me learn in school and recognize the girls waving to me across the quad, and you let me enjoy each little detail of "Gilmore Girls."
But you are not only helpful to me, and I am writing you to let you know that sometimes you truly drive me crazy. Sometimes you give me headaches and it hurts to look through you. Sometimes you get all scratched-up or messy and you block out my vision. Those are the times when I mutter my annoyance at you, when I think back to everything that might have lead me to you, from reading novels in the dark when I was seven, to squinting at the whiteboard in music class when I was ten.
Prior to meeting you, I loved rain. Rainy days meant movies and popcorn indoors, or splashing around in puddles outdoors. And now, with you, rain means wiping at my face with a soon-to-be-damp T-shirt in order to get rid of the spots of water and instead turn them into smudges of water—all in the hopes of being able to attempt to see through it all. The smell of freshly-baked chocolate cookies has turned into steam caking onto you so that once again I can barely see anything, and I end up looking ridiculous.
You also break so easily. Your arms can get loose and fall off when I pick you up from the sides, but how else am I supposed to pick you up without smearing your lenses? You somehow manage to get covered in scratches and leave me attempting to see around them, and once I even broke you right down the middle.
Furthermore, do you know how many times I have been told how much prettier I would be without you? I spent a year once sitting in front of the mirror and poking myself in the eye so I could practice replacing you. And you may think that this is all about replacing you, but contacts have not worked for me yet, no matter how much time I put into it, and I am afraid of surgery, so it looks like we are going to be stuck together for a while.
I realize we are in a tricky situation, because despite how much you frustrate me, I do admit that even going to the bathroom without you is too much for me. As much as you bother me, I never really could follow through with getting rid of you.
However, if you ever are willing to change, that would be greatly appreciated. For now, I will just have to voice my complaints and hope for the best.
Sincerely,
The Person Whose Nose You Live On
