Wednesday, June 24, 2015


I try saving everyone like a modern day Millennial Jesus (kidding!), but I end up saving no one. What I mean is that I TRY SO HARD to make sure everyone is content and physically/mentally/spiritually okay that I end up frustrated with myself and them when they are not. Like, can't I just save the world? Or at least one person? Or at least one day? I am going to save the day! Except I can't. I can't save an hour, either, because time can't be saved. It rushes by like a train -- I am getting off track. I am getting off track and I am getting off the track because I do not wish to be hit by the time train today. Today I will be okay with not making everything okay. Goal.

I am not entirely sure what a trust fund is, but I do know I wish I could be a trust fund baby. I would get over the guilt of being a trust fund baby within a matter of minutes and then HOT DAMN! Time for me to waste away and wallow in a boatload of self-reflective behavior. I will not reread my last sentence because I don't think it made much sense, but I am too lazy to go back and edit. So instead of editing, I will ignore. Ignore > Edit. Anyway, what I'm struggling to say is that money would be great, wouldn't it? Just having so much disposable money to do whatever the fudge you want so that you never have to worry about blah blah blah never mind. What a tired thought. Yes, duh, Meg, money would be great. How about instead of wishing I had it, I actually go out there and hustle? Or maybe not hustle, but just work like a normal person? Am I a normal person? Or am I a modern day Millennial Lazy Alien Androgynous Fleshy Creature? I am not androgynous... YET. But I love the aesthetic. I love a lot of things I am not.

I want to write letters again. By hand, slowly, and with mistakes. I want to cross things out, decorate the envelope with stickers, and mail it to some sweetheart across the country or at least hundreds of miles away. Maybe they are along the coast. Maybe they are stuck in the middle of a corn field. Maybe they are just down the street. I want to reach out in a more intimate way than through a screen. A handwritten letter is a start. Eventually, one day, a millennium from now, we might graduate to a handshake. A non-holographic handshake.

Breakfast. English muffin. Mango. And, for some odd reason, wasabi sauce.

Have a pleasant afternoon. Wear sunscreen. Remember you are not always okay and that that is okay. Okay? Okay.

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