My mother has often accused me of being a Nosey Parker. And it’s true, I am. If you are sitting next to me in a coffee shop tearfully breaking up with your girlfriend, I will totally eavesdrop. If you are standing close to me on the subway reading a book, I will try to get a look at the title – and if it’s something I’ve read, I will crane my neck to try to see what page you’re on. If you drop a torn-up, handwritten letter in the middle of the street, I will totally pick it up, read it, and then post it on the internet.
So, you know, fair warning.
Anyway, I found this today:
Front:
” … this relationship, and I sta …
You should learn to treat women with fairness, equally and with respect, if you want respect back. Stop being ridiculous always trying to see if the grass on the other side is greener. I consider myself old for this games you should’ve think of this before you went ahead, hiding, over the phone conversation (like you didn’t want me to heard you go upstairs secretly).
I don’t need this shit in my life this … kind of stress, I am pretty sure … ”
Back:
“ … with that money you … better. With lot more space for your clothe for your things in general.
ALL I want to say is “you are right”. I have also many reason to start by saying that for better or worse this is the best for the both of us.
Lately you are in a bad mood more often and that’s because you are not happy anymore, and I understand.”
So much heartbreak in such a tiny handful of sentences. So much to wonder about – how did the author go from demanding respect for herself and calling her lover out on his or her bad behaviour to saying that their lover is right and they understand? What happened in the missing paragraphs? Who tore it up and left it in the street – the person who wrote it, perhaps thinking better of it, or the person who received it?
So many mysteries contained in one rain-dampened, ragged-edged piece of paper.
Ah, life.
The Belle Jar 
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