Sticky Message

Dear Don:

You may not recognize me, but I'm the sticky note you've had on your computer monitor for over a year now. I say you may not recognize me because you've obviously forgotten me, I've become just another piece of accidental decoration in your bachelor's office.

I don't want to make you mad, because I do treasure our time together, but don't you think that if my message were important enough to jot down and press onto this monitor that it would have been important enough to take care of, I don't know, eleven months and three weeks ago?

You've re-stuck me several times in the past year, from one edge to the other, once or twice sideways as if you were trying to remember to do something with me. I recall you once dusted me; what kind of commentary is that?

What I'm trying to say is my life as a sticky note is supposed to be like Kurt Cobain's, brief and spectacular, not like Courtney Love's, drawn-out and desperate. I'm supposed to be there for the aha! moment, for that idea that has to make it from your head to your fingers right now. You refer to me, put the idea on me into a more permanent form, and then set me free to join my brethren in the wastepaper basket. This half-life, this undead purgatory you've consigned me to just isn't natural.

Please, Don, for the love of 3M and all that's holy, do something with me! Don't leave me on your monitor for another year.

I'm begging you....
   Your Sticky Note