Dear Mama, By the time I post this it means you are no longer with us. I have attempted to give you this letter numerous times but always with a nagging hesitation that it might upset you or cause your condition to worsen because of the natural sadness farewell letters bring. Truth is, I just …
I have something shocking to admit. Are you sitting down? Brace yourself. Ready? Here goes…. I smoked a pack of cigarettes yesterday. What’s worse is this: I plan to smoke some more tomorrow, the next day, and the day after. No one can stop me. It’s a vicious cycle; like smoke rings into little smoke …
Yes, I am smart, well-read, and have a wicked sense of humor. In fact, I’d date myself if I could. And as you noticed from this previous statement- I am also teeming with self-confidence. I have this power over you that you wouldn’t recognize if it were staring you in the face.
One time I forgot to bring my car home! I had a few (Okay, few is an understatement) beers and took the bus going home. I totally forgot I brought my car to work.
That’s the problem with getting wasted. You can’t help but forget things. (Mental note: Do not bring kids with me when drinking.)
Anyway, I think my dislike for people posting food on Facebook to show off their culinary affluence is slowly enlarging into a misanthropy toward the whole of mankind. Okay, maybe not everyone. That would be too much hatred. Just, people who are on Facebook and Instagram. Now that I think about it, basically, just about everyone.
To my detractors: Taking me down has not only made me hard like ice but soft as wind and the sadness that endured is the same sadness that made everything less irrelevant. There. I’d like to keep things prosey when I’m mad. I find that it softens the blow and makes me look less angry.
Like a true-blooded Libra, I believe that all things come to those who wait, that life is what we make of it, and know for a fact that no matter what size or width, no paper can be folded more than 7 times.
I sat down for a while. I looked around and suddenly had that awful sinking feeling. I probably shouldn’t use sinking as an adjective- when I’m on a boat- in the middle of the ocean.
These things I don’t need in my life. And it really wouldn’t matter. A lot of people like me. Even dogs love me. That guy crossing the street who I let pass when I was driving yesterday likes me. Heck, even my boss likes me. I think. And god bless her, she’s among the discerning lot.
This “thing of beauty” will soon be dead.
Consider this the last time that I wrote for you…“