To Robert Blake the 10th

This is an open letter to all those through out the years who have extended an olive branch to me only to have to snapped into a twig right before their very eyes.

Dear Robert Blake:

How are you?

Let me start off by saying I’ve had a marvelous time getting to know you (who knew you were a closet ice skating fan and in lust with Johnny Weir?!). When I think about the times we chatted on the phone I have no choice but to giggle (as you recall, Erin really likes ‘em real and artificial – to this day I’m still not 100% how she likes ‘em). You listened to my ramblings (as that’s all most are allowed to do, listen, in silence) and laughed along with me (or at me, politely). You let me into your world and told me about your bitter rivalry with Dylan Bright. You liked me. You really liked me.

You tried to get me out of my comfort zone on more than one occasion, sadly, to no avail.

I saw you sent me a message back in October. I left it there, unread in my inbox, as a reminder to reply as soon as I ‘found’ the time. I can make a thousand excuses on why I have neglected to look for this time (work, family) but they are all the same, excuses. Alas, I finally ‘found’ it last week and replied, hoping to make contact, to no avail.

I am a horribly selfish person. I’ve realized if there is one constant in life, if there is one thing in abundance, it is time. Time is not of the physical – it cannot be lost, therefore it cannot be found – it can only be made. It is the art of making time which eludes me. To ‘make’ time for someone is to give up a little piece of yourself, to reduce the selfishness, if only for a few brief moments. I am manic depressive (another excuse) as I am notorious for canceling the plans I make with people. One minute, I’m ready to give up minutes, if not hours. The next, I’m too selfish to let go of seconds.

I wanted to apologize to you, Robert Blake. You made time for me and I was too wrapped up in my own existence to reciprocate what you tried to give me.

I am extending an olive branch to you in hopes you will not annihilate it to a splinter. I would like to invite you over for dinner sometime next week (Mar. 3rd – Mar. 7th). I’ll even let you pick your own TV dinner.


Your Friend:Danielle

P.S. I have gone back, read this, and determined this is probably the cheesiest and most poorly written thing I have ever authored, but I hope it will serve it’s purpose.

P.P.S. Even though this is an open letter, the dinner invite is extended to Robert Blake the 10th only. My sincerest apologizes to Robert Blake’s 1 – 9.