Dear Diaper

Dear Diaper,

What would possess you to jump in my washing machine like that? It couldn't have been fun for you, and it was so not cool. I didn't know you were there, so of course I couldn't have predicted what would happen. Oh but it happened. I don't know if this was merely an attempt to foil my cleaning a load of laundry, or if your knew your implied suicide was on the horizon. Perhaps you were so distraught by my accusations that you saw your own demise as the only option. I have reviewed the piece of writing you were most likely reacting to, and have identified the places in which you probably felt insulted. For the record, I am sorry; for both of us.

I can see how you took "One measly diaper" personally. I realize now that I was discrediting your existence by saying "Actual baby diapers," when you were only looking for validation. I didn't give you credit where credit was due and I had little confidence in your ability to do the only job you knew how to do. As I write this, I'm realizing that it was my own fault. Having completely shattered your identity, I left you little choice but to take your own life.

If it is any consolation, I have washed those clothes three times already and many of them are still smudged with bits and pieces of your physical being. I believe some of them to be permanently marked. And also, we are still sleeping on a naked mattress. Some will think I am being over-dramatic, but I know I owe at least this much to you.

Be Well, My Friend