“Why are you so sweaty, soldier? Look at that. That’s a puddle of sweat forming right underneath you!”
We all have a voice inside our heads. Most of the time it just sounds like our own voice. But for some reason, the voice in my head sounds like an old, grizzled drill sergeant.
“Come on, solider! Quit sitting around. Move!”
I’m in the gym. He tends to yell at me when I’m working out.
I look down, and there is actually a puddle of sweat beneath me. I’ve always sweat a lot when I exercise. Like, a lot. Far more than a normal human should. It’s really quite incredible. And gross.
“I’m gonna go talk to her,” I said. It was loud in the bar, so I had to raise my voice.
“I fully support that decision,” my friend says to me.
I could see her there through the crowd. She’d been looking at me all night and smiling. I hadn’t even said a word to her. It was like every time our eyes met I was telepathically telling her some silly joke.
I take a drink because, you know, liquid courage. And when I look back at her, she’s smiling again. I smile back.
Dear Whoever You Are,
Life is messy.
Messy like broken bones. Messy like spilt acid. Messy like car wrecks.
Messy like adventures. Messy like sloppy joes. Messy like young love.
Life is messy in the worst ways. And in the best ways.