I hope you are doing great. Like, life has never been better. You have an amazing job, you are in love, your house is clean, you look fantastic. Really. Those jeans look great on you. You have genuine, giving friends, you are planning a trip to somewhere you've wanted to go your whole life, you just got an oil change.
There is money in the bank, there is food in the refrigerator, you glow with good health. It was 78 degrees with no humidity today. Your pet is adorable and does not pee on things. You have the most comfortable bed in the history of beds.
You are the life of the party. Hell, you are the party. The party is rescheduled if you can't make it.
Today was the best day of your life. Tomorrow will be better. You don't remember what tears feel like. You have endless reserves of the antidote to hopelessness. To loneliness. To cellulite. To failure.
You are the subject of this blog post. You are the subject of interesting conversations. You are the subject.
You are stunning. I am stunned. You smell so good. Rub your wrist against mine. Even your absence smells like the best nothing else I have ever smelled.
The party is starting. But it's not. They're waiting for you. Go.
3 comments:
This couldn't have been said better.
Lauren,
I know you love postcards. This is my postcard to you:
"I hope you are doing great. Like, life has never been better. You have an amazing job, you are in love, your house is clean, you look fantastic. Really. Those jeans look great on you. You have genuine, giving friends, you are planning a trip to somewhere you've wanted to go your whole life, you just got an oil change.
There is money in the bank, there is food in the refrigerator, you glow with good health. It was 78 degrees with no humidity today. Your pet is adorable and does not pee on things. You have the most comfortable bed in the history of beds.
You are the life of the party. Hell, you are the party. The party is rescheduled if you can't make it.
Today was the best day of your life. Tomorrow will be better. You don't remember what tears feel like. You have endless reserves of the antidote to hopelessness. To loneliness. To cellulite. To failure.
You are the subject of this blog post. You are the subject of interesting conversations. You are the subject.
You are stunning. I am stunned. You smell so good. Rub your wrist against mine. Even your absence smells like the best nothing else I have ever smelled.
The party is starting. But it's not. They're waiting for you. Go."
Thank you for both. It was for you.
Post a Comment