Dear self, I see you in my cabinet pickin’ a jam and you rub it in my face and call me dirty, soiled, clumsy. I rush to the bathroom and the Jam wouldn't come off no matter how much I scrubbed. I come out shamefully. You laugh with a friend on the phone. Yes, I recognize that feeling, it was anger at the Jam and you. I sit on the couch, I'm still. You end the call and watch TV on the couch where I sat and you say nothing to me. You watch the News and that noisy Journalist won't stop talking until 5pm. I walk to the window, sorry, there was none. No windows, no doors just this fence around me and you. You move to me and whisper “stop hoping for windows doors and butterflies" a pause.." I want the door” I managed to say. You laugh again and claim you were the only door through which I could pass. I smirk, you are doorless, you have too many walls. You sniff and drink all evening and drink yourself to sleep yet you tell me you have a door? People with a ...