What Misery Is This?
Fuck Your Resume
Fuck your resume
Fuck what's gone
before
Reports of My Death...
I’m in Cancun, Mexico with Dana as you read this. Which means I can’t grab you for coffee or a sandwich right now. Because I’m lounging in the sand with the most most wonderful human being in the known universe.
That said, when we get back, expect an invitation to spend some time. In person. Like humans are supposed to do.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?