The first cut is the deepest, baby I know.

Dear Brianna,

I've been a bad, bad girl. As you read this I have already written it in a state of panic and regret. WOE! WOE the weakness of the human mind and heart! Dear Lord WHY must you make us so weak?

Two fateful days ago I went to the Theatre to see a wonderful new musical entitled "Cry Baby." I was having a joy filled evening picking up on jokes that only people from Baltimore would get and laughing with my mother when all of the sudden, intermission occurred. Normally this would be a time to rejoice, a time to use the rest rooms, to pretend you already know all the dances and perform them in the lobby, but for me this intermission was a pivotal moment in my life. So pivotal that I fear I may never be able to turn back.

I contemplated murdering two women.

I am a horror of a person! I do not deserve to walk with the holy, the righteous, the innocent anymore for I have committed something that can never be taken back! Two whole human lives were lost (in a very intense, and might I add AWESOME, imagined sword battle) that can never return (in my head)! And they were mothers!

But seriously, may I appeal to the better side of your hearts and minds and ask for forgiveness? I so miss being able to walk amongst people on the streets of this fair city without a giant "M" on my shirt. I'll tell you my side and you can judge for yourself. But please, please understand that I took no joy, or, well, only a little bit of joy in imagining chopping these women at the knees with a sword. Isn't that something to be commended?

I'll put you in my place. Say you're enjoying watching a musical on broadway, something that you rarely get to do because you're poor but something you wish you could do every day, and people are talking. Annoying, right? Now, say that you're buying into the magic of the corney love songs, possibly imaging yourself on stage and someone right beside you pulls out a tiny bag of pretzles that they can barely fit their hand into so it makes a fuck ton of noise EVERY FUCKING TIME they reach for a tiny pretzle that they chew with their mouth open and then crinkle the bag while passing it to the other person beside them while loudly asking if they would like one. Alright, maybe you haven't snapped yet, but say you're intesly watching the choreography to see if you really could pick it up quickly in an audition and do well (you're thinking about a career change to broadway dancer) and two people beside you decide to pick up their gigantic leopard print purses and DIG through them for what seems like an eternity and what are they digging for? What's so important? Insulin? Zanex? A tissue? TRY A LOLLYPOP. A FUCKING LOLLYPOP. What are you, Britney Spears at a club? What the fuck are you thinking opening and LOUDLY SUCKING on a lollypop at a fucking broadway musical? You both look like you're forty years old, and while I will probably be sucking lollypops for the rest of my life (pun intended?) I will not do it during the quiet part of a play or musical! I also will not talk about the bulge in someone's pants for three minutes next to my two young daughters while everyone around me tells me to shut the fuck up. I will NOT do this and I do NOT approve of you doing the same! FUCK YOU ASSHOLES! SWORD FIGHT!

In closing, they deserved to imaginary die.

Love,
Katie