Stop the World, I Want to Get Off: An Amateur Prayer
Hello, it's me.
No, not Adele. Not Lionel Ritchie. No one of any actual significance really, not yet at least. Just me.
Can I have a minute?
It's been awhile since I've done this. I don't really know what I'm doing, but after all how does anyone really know what they're doing? How does anyone really know how to do this, how to talk to you, how to look up at the ceiling or the sky or the roof of their car and ask you for a minute of your time? I'm going to be honest, this isn't me. It's not you; don't take it personally, I just don't ask anyone for help. I'm Wonder Woman, you see. Wonder Woman doesn't ask for help.
She's a badass. That is, I am a badass.
But not right now. Now, I need you. I don't really want to need you, but I don't really want to need anyone else and out of all the people I don't want to need, you're just the easiest one to talk to, you know? Judgement free, or whatever.
Things are changing. Not just the usual kind of change, where you finish one thing and move onto the next and then panic and cry like millions of other kids, excuse me—young adults, my age. I'm sure you get that one a lot. The "help me, I'm jobless" one. And I'm sure you do your best, don't get me wrong, but while we're on the subject, how in the world does a kid who spent all of his senior year of high school dressed as the Statue of Liberty and speaking in a mildly offensive German accent get scouted by Google and offered a company car, YouDammit?
Anyways, like I was saying, I'm sure you get that one a lot. But I'm not here for that one. I'm here for a big thing. A huge thing. A "help me, my dad's moving out of my childhood home, the only place I've ever felt truly safe, and moving to the other side of the country, and I'm graduating and have no plans and the world is spinning and I want to get off" kind of thing. Not to be too specific.
And it's great and it's wonderful and change is good and home isn't a building, its the people in the building and whatever. And I'm happy about it. But I'm unhappy about it. And that's the only way I know how to put it.
I guess this is where you come in, where the talking to the ceiling or the sky or the roof of the car comes in.
It's confusing. And it's hard. And it's challenging. And it's scary. And it's uncomfortable. And it's a million other words that I don't know, and a billion other feelings that I can't put into words.
I'm really good at advice usually, but this one's throwing me. Hell, I gave my dad advice that he actually took for the first time in my life today. But I just can't get this one right.
Oh shit, I just said hell.
Oh crap, I just said shit.
That about sums up how good I am at this. But hey, maybe you're up there, taking notes, and you can just erase that last part. Unless you're using pen. (Does God use a pen? Clearly I'm new here.)
What I'm saying is, life got hard, and life's about to get hard for everyone right about now, and your inbox is about to fill up. And people aren't going to want to need anyone but out of all the people they don't want to need, you're going to be the easiest one to talk to, you know?
And on behalf of all of the kids who have the "help me, I'm jobless" requests, help them—they're jobless and it's scary.
And on behalf of all the other ones like me, just do your best.
That's all we're doing, anyways.
That's all we can ask for.
Thanks. Amen (or whatever).
[Photo by Chelsey Satterlee.]
