Dear life, why you do me dirty like that?

Dang it life. Get it together.

You know, I’ve got some stuff to say to you. I’m pretty annoyed with you recently. You’ve really been bugging me — getting me wound up tight.

Why do you do me dirty like that, huh? One day you got me on top of the world, holding a glass of overpriced champagne, and the next, I’m staring at my burnt toast questioning my existence. What’s your game here? Is my ex paying you to mess with me?

And let’s not even start on those surprises. What the hell was that parking ticket? I WAS NOT ON THE CURB. The spilled milk while putting my cereal box away? MY LIFE IS NOT A MOVIE, COMON.

I mean, it’s a little on the curb. But you get the point

You know, some clarity would’ve been great. A user manual, a handbook or even a cryptic riddle. Anything! But no, you thought it’d be fun to play the cruel version of hide and seek, where I hide and you don’t look for me. Feels like i’m on some DaVinci code style journey trying to figure you out.

Why is it, when I finally get comfortable in my own skin, my routine, my little bubble — you find a way to pop it? Solve these random problems I just came up with or they’ll follow you around like a bad smell. Greeaatt.

Why can’t you cut me some slack?

I think you have some weird way of showing love. You’re like that tough coach waiting at the end of the track, telling me how every stumble is just one step towards becoming stronger. That coach you want to curse out.

But no, you’re not just a tough coach. You swerve more volatile than the stock market. Stop pulling the rug from under me when I get my footing. I’m just starting to get things together finally. Chill.

Do me a favor, stop setting me up for lessons, I’m not in school anymore.

But I’ll tell you what. You’re audacious, and I’ll give you that. You see a smooth sea and decide, no, it’s time for a tempest.

You know what I still learnt from you? Resilience. Grudgingly, sure. But I did. I’ll admit, you have a thing or two to teach. But please — for my sanity — adjust your teaching methods.

Forever stuck with you,
Sam.

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