You got this... I guess

Wow, you really remembered you wrote this? Or did you just stumble upon it while deep cleansing your room? Honestly it doesn’t matter does it? Cause either way you’re reading it now for a reason. And whatever message it is your looking for I hope you get it, because I couldn’t exactly prophesy all possible outcomes, any of which you are no living in.

How many sticky notes have we taken down from the bucket list door? Hopefully more than thirty. After all you weren’t really supposed to read this until after college. But who am I to judge, we’ve never exactly followed the rules have we?

I honestly have more questions than I do help. Are you still leading a band of misfits somewhere? Have you kissed someone you weren’t supposed to yet? Are you important? Do you still have your folder of accomplishments? God we’re pretty fucked up aren’t we... are you seeing a therapist yet?

If not, it’s time. We both know all there is to talk about. And it needs to be said. Because otherwise you’re never going to be okay. And you’re never going to be successful.

I don’t know why you’re reading this letter. Or honestly, out of all the letters I’ve written you, I don’t know why you’re reading this letter. But either way, I hope it helps.

I love you.

You love you.

Your parents love you (even if it doesn’t seem like they do all the time).

Your idiotic brothers love you.

Your friends would’ve been rather lost without you.

And say you were to die right now this very minute. It would be ok. I know you’re probably still scared. Terrified. Petrified. But it’s like Joe depressingly said. It’ll be ok. It’s going to happen no matter what. And it’ll be ok.

Now if you’re reading this because some idiot dude broke up with you. Or you’re dealing with disappointment. Or maybe you’re coping with something much much greater. All I can prescribe is Ice Cream, a comedy show, and going on a run tomorrow. If you’re reading this because you’re fat (like actually fat) then I only recommend the run, and some serious tough love.

But I also don’t know why you’re turning to me for advice. I know infinitely less than you do idiot. I’m naive. Innocent (relatively). And you’ve been through college (hopefully).

You got this.

Now time to blow this popsicle stand

XOXOXO

Ps: burn the folder. You don’t need it. Plus... it’s kind of weird.