Letter to Myself
Dearest Self,
You care entirely too much about what others think. I promise you the barista from two days ago does not remember how you fumbled with pulling quarters and nickels out of your folded pocket in order to pay for your LARGE cup of chicken salad, um... I think you can forgive yourself now. It is also doubtful that anyone cares or notices when your armpits are damp from anxiety or heat, it's time to stop calling attention to it, you’re all grown up now, I think...
You know what? It's hard to be Thirty-two and single and NOT be drunk all the time. It doesn’t matter how many inspirational YouTube compilations you watch while shoveling Thai noodles into your mouth from an overpriced ubereats delivery, the fact remains, life sucks sometimes. You wake up and you're dehydrated. You forgot to be a functioning adult and drink water for two days, that sucks...and you’re dumb. You don't reach out to your meme gang for 24 hrs and all your inboxes are dry, that sucks….and the world is suddenly cold and meaningless.
You did spend a whole Saturday watching Queer Eye episodes and bawling like an imbecile because Yoko San is such a pure soul and she cared for other people for soooo long, it’s HER TIME TO TAKE CARE OF HERSELF; you’re a little emo, but thats alright. You are also in a fragile state of being an adult in TWENTY NINETEEN. It's too difficult. You shouldn't feel terrible for complaining, you should be rewarded for not complaining as much as everyone else on the internet. What should I name this GoFundme? “Not the biggest ‘little bitch’ in their thirties?” The country is in political turmoil, the population can’t focus on one headline for very long, I guess we care about people making albums in prison now? ... but at least the internet is exciting.
You can wake up on a Sunday defend Kanye West for expressing himself, and go to sleep on Sunday angry at Kanye West for expressing himself. You can love Stacy Dash in Clueless and hate Stacy Dash for being clueless. It’s wild how two ideals can exist in one person, but you’re perfect the way you are. You can hate Zumba because you aren’t coordinated enough to publicly dance but love Zumba routines in the privacy of your own locked room. Don’t worry, girl, you will never be the kind of person to twerk in public… without the help of tequila.
Seriously, sometimes you're no good as a grown person. You should no longer get teary eyed when listening to Jason Mraz. First of all, he hasn’t done anything in like 15 years and second, what memory are his songs pulling you to? Young baby Sandy had ZERO problems other than having no money and even less common sense. Why is the geek in pink making you get all mushy inside though? He’s just a curbside prophet with his hand in his pocket, he’s Mr. A to Z waiting for his rocket to come and you know his lyrics better than you know the articles of the constitution. It's a little embarrassing
I think, and I hope you will agree with me, that laughing at your faults is better than rolling into a giant shame ball with static anxious energy and not allowing people to approach you. Lets all laugh at you and not worry about what everyone else thinks, at least for a day or two alright?
XoXo
Sandra
