My thanksgiving, it was quiet. Something I’ve lied to myself about 4 years in a row. Delusional mantra starts to play.

“This is my last thanksgiving alone.”

Have you ever had an idea and you work and work for your idea to become more than an idea. Positive people would call an idea a dream. I think you have to close your eyes to dream and I simply didn’t have time for that. I digress, my idea. One seemingly tortured filled afternoon your idea is no longer an idea. It is like your whole goddamned life goes from ideation to fucking terrifying reality. You almost want to rejoice, maybe do a little happy dance. But your scared, you’ve never felt happy so the feeling is like a pair of leather pants two sizes to small on a hot day with 100% humidity. You start to panic, you can’t breath, the feeling of happy is more torturous than the life you’ve known to be torture. Here’s your idea manifested……

How can I fuck it up?