I want to be cremated and spread around like an STD. I want everyone to talk about me and read my scripts and remount my play. I want my soul to come back the same. I want my body to continue to be a vessel. My little sister and her fiancé can have all of my records. My parents can keep the old photo albums and children’s books I’ll never give my children.
I want to be loved unconditionally. I want to forgive myself for all of it. I want to believe that nothing bad ever really happened to me. I want to make up with cigarettes and all of my exes. I want to have mattered. I want to look down and be proud of myself instead of waiting for my parents to be. I want to let other people’s wins feel like my own. I want to really see people the way I wish they could really see me.
I’m glad that I thought I could do something this hard. I’m glad I failed but never truly fell down. I’m glad I knew how lucky I was. I’m glad I always looked for signs.
I’m sorry for the credit card debt and the lies. I’m sorry for being selfish. I’m sorry for playing the victim too much. I’m sorry I didn’t try new things. I’m sorry I never slowed down enough to take inventory of myself and my choices. I’m sorry I never learned Spanish or how to do a cartwheel. I’m sorry that my ambition was my one true love. I’m sorry I never settled for a mediocre man or the picture-perfect life. I was too busy feeling small or stupid. The only one who ever called me those things was myself.
I will miss the smell of the beach on the highway. I will miss being the perfect amount of stoned to let a stranger see me naked. I will miss finding the missing pieces of my soul in friends I overlooked at first. I will miss inspiring my colleagues to push a little bit farther. I will probably even miss making mistakes, never able to see what beauty they would bring me.
I won’t miss the bad days and the depression and the hangovers. I won’t miss the racism and hate. I won’t miss the wealth gap and the hamster wheel of having a “good” job. I won’t miss the sprint to check off all the things on life’s list we’re all supposed to have by 25.
I hope that I cherished my audience. I hope that I made people laugh so deep they felt like they said it. I hope that I gave love even when I didn’t get it. I hope that you know how much I loved you and still do.
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