- I cried, too. You just couldn’t see me.
- Being brazenly proud of your Internet history should have been a warning flag.
- It’s awful that I can only sum up the entire contents of your heart into that moment you pressed a cold wash cloth against my head when my nose wouldn’t stop bleeding.
- I used to press my head against your car window, wishing you were anyone but you.
- You are my best friend, and I can’t wait to high five your face in heaven.
- You should stop talking so much so I don’t have to be sad for everyone’s ears.
- You taught me all the worst parts of myself and it only made me see the best in you.
- I wanted to be you when I grew up, but only if you would have grown up, too.
- I am not evil. You aren’t either. Let’s just leave it at that.
- It’s okay. I understand now.
- Wishing it away is like swallowing your own tongue.
- I stopped writing because the words began to break and fall apart and when I tried to pick one up, it bit my hand and called me a fraud.
- You are a whirling dervish on acid.
- It wasn’t fair of me. Not a single moment of it.
- I never wanted to be you. Not really. I just wanted, just one time, for you to want to be me.
- Don’t be me. Don’t ever be me.
- Unless you want to. I don’t blame you. I have nice ankles.
- But seriously, guard your heart, your loins and every tissuey organ that has the potential to give you grief. And when you do give them away, be prepared to never ask for them back.
- I loved you all the most. And perhaps that was my vilest sin.
- One more high five, best friend.
- Okay. I’m ready.
I stayed at a Ritz Carlton once, and you know the way some memories are made of cardboard and their corners poke at your brain from time to time?
Let me share one of those corners with you. There was a placard on the bathroom sink at this particular Ritz Carlton and etched into its plastic face were the words “Bath Menu.”
A bath menu. There were several types of baths listed, which I was pretty impressed with seeing as I was under the impression there was only one way to take a bath at the time. But was was even more astounding was the fact that if this menu of baths existed, and an entire customer base of bath takers existed there at the Ritz Carlton, then this could only mean one thing: There was a bath giver. The man/woman who’s sole purpose (heck, maybe even soul purpose) was to create another human being’s perfect bath.
I mean, what pressure you know?
Have you ever tried to draw the perfect bath? I just tried it a few minutes ago, and I royally failed. Like I’m ashamed to admit I have a college degree. I can’t even get temperature right.
But somewhere at a Ritz Carlton in Boston exists a person – no – a hero who fights through the shifty temperament of a fancy faucet and creates pure magic in a bathtub.
I just thought this was important to share with you. Whenever life is weighing heavily on your shoulders and your brain hurts and there’s no one whose heart is perfectly crafted to deal with the fact that you got pulled over today AND you have a paper cut…well, don’t get down, my friend.
At least you’re not The Bath Man.