I’m hungover in an airport sitting across from a lady in a Burbury scarf (who wears that anymore?) recollecting, and simultaneously attempting to forget how my night was. It was one of those nights where I couldn’t actually hide how bad it was. I woke up nauseous with the Ohio State marching band rehearsing in my temples. My swollen upper lip and the gash under my nose reminded me why I could never be a dog whisperer. What happened? Don’t ask. Please. Just know I’m swearing off liquor for the 14th time.
So why am I writing about sitting in the airport across from a lady in a Burbury scarf still slightly hungover? Because four ibuprofen pills, 3 bottles of water, half a kiwi and a crab cake won’t solve my problems. So I write letters.
On the car ride to the airport, all I could think about were the mistakes I’ve made in my life. I’m a failure, I said. I’m not good at anything, I said. Why do I keep fucking up, I said. Good question. Why do I constantly make mistakes?
I make them because I always learn something new from them. For example, dogs hate me and the McDonald’s Dollar Menu is the next best invention following bug spray and tampons.
I constantly make mistakes, but I’ve also learned over time how to forgive myself. I learned that I can’t run away anymore. I can’t brush my problems and mistakes under a rug and expect them to go away. I want to confront them head on and I need you to do it with me. Hold my hand while I detangle my nappy afro I call life.
My life is way to crazy to deal with it alone. It’s complicated, twisted, crazy, full of laughs and tears, filled with new and old (and fake) friends, with drama, with action, with love and heartbreak. My life is unreal. It is! And I want to show you just how unreal it is. I want to open up my life to you so maybe you’ll learn the exact same lessons I do. Think of this as my pending autobiography or my weekly therapist session.
More importantly, thank you for reading. Thank you for being with me.