What would I tell her if I could?

They used to say such funny things when I was young.

“Just you wait until you’re older, then you’ll see. Everything will be different. You’ll look back and laugh at how stupid you were.”

They told me I’d be a a Republican. How silly of them. They told me I’d get my life together. What the fuck were they thinking?

The horrible, HORRIBLE truth is, I had it all figured out back then, and I doubted myself. I kept thinking when I was older it would all make sense, and I’d have it together, and I’d finally get shit sorted. But the fucked up truth is, THINGS WERE SORTED THEN.

When I had friends and a cool apartment and a cool car and a cool life and cool hobbies and a cool job.

Like, what the fuck were we waiting for? What did we think was going to happen?

What do I think is going to happen now?

What is ever going to happen?

I’m so depressed. I was so depressed then. I guess I will just be depressed forever.

I have other depressed people around me, expecting me to save them. I had other depressed people around me then, expecting me to save them. I guess I will just always be the blind, leading the blind.

What a fucked up existence.

Now I have kids.

Who let me have kids?

My poor kids.

I’m a cool mom. Sometimes.

But mostly I’m a depressed mom.

What would I tell my younger self if I could go back and tell her something?

It’s probably the same thing I should tell my little daughters now.

Should I tell her that it’s all fucked up, and it never gets better?

That you’re not going to figure it out? You’re not going to feel better? You’re not going to learn how to adult? How to be happy? How to do your makeup or make dinners or grocery shop or enjoy your job or keep a relationship or do anything really?

But I guess you’ll always be kind of cool. You’ll always learn new stuff. You’ll always be on the bleeding edge of technology. You’ll somehow stay alive for a while. Cats will like you.

What the fuck.

Hello Melo.