I was going to write you an ode, but that got way too complicated, way too quickly. So, I decided an open letter would be just as fitting to send you off into oblivion, where I intend to leave you forever, only brining back the handful of awesome memories I was able to squeeze in there every few months.
Let me start by saying, I had SUCH high hope for you! I was rooting for you, man. My Jesus year! I had heard such great things! But you quickly let me know (the same night you came into my life, through a series of hilarious, yet unfortunate events that will only be retold in narrative form) that you were gonna be quite a shit fest.
So, you proceeded to give me 365 days of what I will call “persistent heartburn.” I could write multiple paragraphs, each dedicated to specific stories. But, in the spirit of keeping this lite, let’s just list them out:
Surgery. Anxiety. Cancer. Death. Depression. Way-too-early biopsy. Self-doubt. World doubt. Crazy people with bad intentions. Anything that came as a result of the clusterfuck that is Trump. Multiple existential crises. And, the motherfukin’ cherry on top: “María, that bitch”.
All that being said, I do wonder if I am being too hard on you… Is it that you are confounded by the shit storm that has been 2017? Are you desperately trying to send me glimmers of your true self in between all the craziness? Because, in spite of all this hurt, you have given me some of the most invaluable experiences and strongest bonds I have ever created. New friends who give me hope and energy and love; old friends who have showed me how lucky I am to have them in my life; moments that I will continue to relive in my heart; and a renewed passion for helping people who don’t even know I exist on this Earth. I’m also writing again, which is fun and a great way to avoid punching people in the face.
Oh, yeah. And growth. Tons of growth. And the balls (scratch that, the OVARIES) to finally get bangs. Which I think look awesome.
So, in a way, I thank you. You have shown me how resilient I am, and proven to me that negative experiences cannot break me or bring down my spirit. I choose to be an annoying ray of sunshine to anyone that crosses my path.
Now, exit gracefully, and don’t let the door hit you on your way out. Come midnight, I’ll be ready to leap into 34’s arms with pizzazz.
And, please be kind to the next 33-year-old you visit.