Dear God in the Highest,

Hi! How are you?

I am fine, but I feel like I’m wasting my life. Any ideas?

What should I do? I can’t think of anything! I could try to be a writer, but what would I write? I feel so tired, like I’m slipping down the drain, fading out. I cannot think. I feel only a wobbly warble throughout. I think all the hot women are hot, but that doesn’t seem to be helping anybody. What should I do? Any ideas?

I live in a comparatively easy situation. Just have to work my 40 hours and pay my electric bill. That’s pretty much all they ask of me. What do you ask of me? I’m sorry about all the people in prison–not that I put them there or anything.

I wish there was a way to make things better. But I can’t even say exactly what the problem is.

Oh well, thanks for listening,

A

[Bartleby’s Poetry Corner]