Incriminating Paper Trails

I write. A lot. It's how I process things. Actually, I'm a verbal processor, but living alone has honed by ability to use the written word to the same effect. So you can probably piece together most of my "brain life" by snooping through the notebooks and scraps of paper left in my wake.

The number of unsent letters and emails is startling. I'm thinking of compiling them into a series of monologues. Or a one-act play. The most recent attempt at do-not-send correspondence started off friendly, turned angry, and concluded with a soul-bearing apology. Like I said, I process this way. 

Today I found this note. I left it attached to my headphones at work over a year ago. Man, I'm a paper-trail nightmare. And apparently pretty passive-aggressive.

To whom this may concern,
(If you're sitting here, that's you.)

I have new headphones. Do not use them. The old ones (which you used even though they were broken and MINE) are in headphone heaven.

If you need your own pair, talk to **** or ******.

Pretend this is kindergarten. Don't share headgear.

Subtitle well, my friend.
Nadine

At least I remember writing it. Sometimes I have no recollection. Not long ago, when I was sorting through stacks of sheet music, I uncovered a half-written song. And I have no idea who or what inspired it.

I can't go back now
Thanks to the point of no return
I can't backtrack now
Just tag this as a lesson learned
I can't pretend now
I'm the girl you think you need
And I can't defend now
All this inconsistency

For a rather neurotic gal such as myself, you'd think this would trigger something. Nope. Maybe it was the ill-fated coffee date with the actor? The non-boyfriend I had to break up with over creepy emails? Maybe I was channeling someone else's pain? No clue.

I don't know if I should publish a book or invest in a paper shredder.

Don't get me started on to-do lists....