A letter to my Pimples

Dear pimples,

Shakespeare would have never written classics such as Pimple hast Pleasure:-

"Why hast thou frolicked among thee; oily confines of thy's skin? Art thou not ashamed?"

As such, I beseech you to read through this piece of text, and hopefully we may clear up some differences between us.

I remember the good days where you were recumbent in the epidermis, deep in your 'eternal sleep' that could only be awakened by the appearance of Prince Testosterone. My voice high and whiny, my face flawless, and it was much more comfortable in the pants. He appeared far too soon. Hair shot from the unlikeliest of places, oil pores spat poison and the voice shattered. Moans replaced screeches, coughing was hoarse and vocal range was shortened significantly.

It was puberty.

That very day... It was a mix of both pleasure and horror when I first found you. Your oleaginousness was a proclamation of my discovered physical maturity! Still, the pus within disagreed with exodermis. You would turn red with anger if I tried to pry you out, and if I unwittingly do, you'll explode in an achromatic splendor. (Just so you know, that would hurt me more than it hurts you.)

Never mind about the past grievances, and I never did mind. But you took a turn for the worse, when you started mixing around with various chemicals behind my back! (Technically, it was on my face. But, never mind that.) You tried to outnumber me with your shenanigans, and I ignored you for a while. I kept telling myself that you would settle down sooner or later. But did you?

I regret to say that I had to stop you. I didn't mind if you were the only one around. But you invited more to come stay. Multiplying, your kind tripled and even quadrupled. To make matters worse, you people based yourselves on a nucleated pattern on my forehead. What is it, my cheeks too cold for you? You left me no choice but to wash you away. And tried, I did. You just kept coming back. It was as though you missed me.

The feeling is not mutual.

I tried to put some kind of hold over you; to control you. You allowed yourself to be for only a short while, rebelling against me soon after. What is it that you want? Saponaceous products were applied to ward against you, and the whole body imbibed delight through every pore. Until you defeated them. Hydrogen dioxide did not deter you, neither did talcum. Even the tried-and-tested toothpaste failed at grasping you. In a desperate attempt, I even attempted inveigling, but you resisted such cajoling.

And so I ask, what is it that you crave for?
My everlasting despair? Low-self esteem?

It would seem that you have succeeded in your attempts of being a deleterious effect. For that, I applaud your persistance. But this has got to stop. These few years have been long enough; My patience wears thin. You have to go, Pamela. Thank you for all the bad times, and may we never meet again.

Yours Sincerely,

Donovan

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Author's Notes:-

This funny piece was sparked off by a certain conversation between Pamela and I. She is therefore, my pimple. Anywho, Donovan would be off for a week or two due to examinations. See you mid-May!

Cheerio!