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An Open Letter to Jelly Doughnuts

By 

Andrea Leydon

W

hether you are already not-so-much a jelly doughnut lingering on the insides of my body or sitting so delightfully behind the clean glass window, recently smothered with Windex at the nearest pastry shop, I want you to know a few things.

The reason I am writing this today is because I can’t stop thinking about you, and I can’t stop myself from imagining how happy I will be when I devour you and all that is left is sugar, or carbs, melting into my bloodstream. Let this letter be a promise to you that I will do my best to chomp you into the most delicate, chewable pieces.

I may not yet know all of the difficulties that come with a lifetime commitment, but I have enough jelly doughnut experience to know what I want and how I picture my life with the donuts I will commit to: jelly.

All of those other doughnuts around are jealous of us, and it inspires the kind of relationship I want to have. So here and today, I vow to try my best to do the following:

I promise to make sure to put you first. You know when they say, “But first, coffee.” NO. I love you so much that I say, “But first, jelly doughnuts.”

I promise to repeat the words “you only live once,” delicately and seductively before I put you into my mouth to reassure our endless connection.

I promise not to breathe heavily onto the circumference of your being as to not waste your powdered sugar particles.

I promise to do my best to make sure your dough has risen higher than any of your fellow doughnuts, so count on me being with you for extended periods of time.

I promise I will always look at you with the same googly-bear eyes as I did all of the other jelly doughnuts.

I promise to hold you carefully with both hands. I vow to never drop you and risk the chance of someone or something steal you away from me.

I promise to take you to places you’ve never imagined. To the coffee shop next door, the office down the street, and to the inside of my humble abode. I will be there to show you the world.

I promise to communicate with you. To share how my day was. I will tell you the best stories I have to offer because I want to give you everything.

I promise to create a family that ensures our beautiful mini doughnuts will sit right beside you in my gurgling gut.

I promise the only small ring-shaped cake I will put around my finger is filled with jelly, comprised of light sweetened dough, and fried in deep fat.

I promise to take you, jelly doughnuts, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.

I promise to love you forever. And ever. And ever.

But, even with all of these promises to you, I deserve you. I earned you. I want you. I need you. 

Please don’t be sad when you find out that I’m using you.

Sincerely,

Your doughy deserver

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Issue 3

published 

February 22, 2017

An Open Letter to Jelly Doughnuts was written by Andrea Leydon. In Kindergarten, Andrea drew her self portrait upside down. At 25 years of age, she still thinks with the right side of her brain. From writing, drawing and occasionally building lamps, Andrea's creativity is never ending. Ask her about ice cream or backpacking South America.

i dont feel like fininishing this website right now and i am sorry

Can't have a full beard

or you'll seem too unruly

and independent.

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Issue 3

This writing was originally published in Opium Magazine, and is not listed in the Lit.cat archives.
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