Niceties and Milk (Epistolary Series)


If I cared enough to tell you, I would. But, my dear, you bore me with your tedious outlook on life and I can’t really be bothered to entertain the logic of fools any longer than I have to.

Does that sound harsh? Well, it’s meant to. I don’t get through to you when I speak in coddled words, dressed up in the art of being quaint. What you need is a proper dose of truth—the bluntest sort you can find. Your stomach has grown too weak with your diet of niceties and milk. You’ll need something meatier in you if you ever wish to take your place in the halls of a greater house than the one you’re in.

Don’t argue with me. At least give me a moment to explain. Yes, yes, I admit, you’re not a stupid girl. Your head has some interesting thoughts floating around; they’ve put in an appearance every now and then. But most of the time, you’re inclined to be lazy with yourself, letting the good thoughts wander off into the unknown and dressing yourself in emotional mudrooms instead.

Don’t pretend it’s not true. You know full well what I’m getting at. You’ve gotten yourself into enough tangles to blush with shame at the mention of them. You’re a smart girl, but a silly one, and you have a lot of growing up to do. This all sounds sharp, I know, but the thing you need is a cold, hard slap of truth. That’s the best way I know for getting a girl to grow up fast.

Well, you can’t be troubled with such things, I see. I guess I’ll take my wisdom where it’s wanted, and leave it to fall deaf on the ears of the ones who need it most.

Mrs. T