My thanksgiving was quiet. Again. I swore last year was going to be there I’d say that.

My dearest friend,

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 you scared, you’ve never felt happy so the feeling is like a pair of leather pants two sizes too small on a hot day with 100% humidity. You start to panic, you can’t breathe, the feeling of happiness is more torturous than the life you’ve known to be tortured. Here’s your idea manifested……

How can I fuck it up?