It has been a whole twenty-one years since I was born. I do not remember being born, however I am told that it was a most awful and harrowing experience for everyone involved. Indeed, there are no photos of my birth because I am reliably informed that to remember such a day one would have to be the largest of sadomasochists possible.
Anyway, the reason for my letter has nothing to do with that; I wanted to proceed with a strong opener. My problem stems from something I have had since birth. It is not something that is easy to talk about so I am hoping that we can keep this between me and you.
I have the most unique hair. It is made out of noodles so I cannot go outside when it is raining. When I try to cry over something emotional, such as the film ‘The Quest’ starring everyone ever, instead of water tears I weep tears made of rice. When I get stabbed by local gang members I bleed tomato sauce, and I get followed home by hungry dogs and cats, licking the floor behind me.
This has stopped me from living a normal life. The last time I went out with someone I woke up one morning to find him nibbling on my forehead, trying to concoct some sort of bizarre tomato sauce noodle breakfast arrangement. In fact I am convinced he was trying to assemble a makeshift Virgin Mary.
My confidence is at an all time low. Can you help?
Camerra Von Plusbeets