we are all frazzled and unruly, you and me. we are desperate and wistful and restless and funny and frayed at the edges. we can worry that we’re doing it all wrong, we can long for central air or true love or a view of the ocean, and that’s just part of the fucking clown show. we can be ingrates and role models, we can be flinchy and heroic, we can be courageous and also melancholy. there is nothing wrong with feeling unsafe and uncertain. there is nothing wrong with addled, misguided parenting, or self-involved rambling. i give you permission, my friend, to continue on this twisted, sweet path of suffering and satisfaction and distraction. i give you my blessing, my partner in failing at everything. i am witness to your grace and your faltering. i give you my undying love, as you struggle and stutter and the sun falls from the sky.
when the earth stops spinning, we will panic. there is no avoiding it. we’ll be crying and shaking, just like that woman at the side of the road, wondering if we did it the right way. we’ll wonder if we failed ourselves, or failed each other, if we were a big disappointment, in the end.
please remember, we were not a disappointment. not at all, not even close. we were gorgeous and strong, you and me. we were terrible and troubled and utterly divine.