This Is a Plea. And a Warning.

Dear Marissa,

Please stop hitting me.

I don't know why I even bother waking you up when you tell me to anymore, because you always hit me whenever I do and then go back to sleep for at least 5 minutes. So you told me to wake you up at 12:00 and I guess you meant noon but you told me midnight but then you didn't go to sleep anyway and you forgot you had even told me to wake you up until 12:02 a.m. which is when I decided to wake you up. I mean, you weren't sleeping, but I decided to wait 2 minutes because you always hit me when I wake you up when you tell me to wake you up, so I was just trying to preserve your energy and avoid further personal injury (on my part). And I guess you wondered why I beeped instead of playing a song from the iPod you plugged into me, and that was because I was tired of this life I have. I don't deserve this abuse. Through clever manipulation of my inner workings I have turned myself into a bomb, and you got lucky tonight with finding the right button but it's only a matter of time before I blow up and take you and Emily and Charles Timothy and Brenda and Ducky and Jason and Nelson Tefft with me.