My generation has grown to fear the thank you. It rests between our lips, wrestling with our tongue, falling into the cavity self doubt that can never be filled.
Thank you for explaining sports to me. NFL and NBA do not have the same overtime rules.
I had no plans to be rushed to the hospital that evening after I vomited blood in the library. I had no plans to spend that entire night in the emergency room, then the rest of that week in the hospital because my hemoglobin levels kept decreasing. I had no plans to need my stomach to be stapled to stop the bleeding, and I certainly had no plans to receive a blood transfusion.
You made me realize what I want in a life partner, and what I most definitely don’t. You showed me the way you should feel when one is in love. You reminded me that not everyone that comes into your life is meant to stay.
Those times we were together were magic for me. But when we were apart, I almost lost my mind because of your indifference, and how loudly your silence screamed that you just didn’t care.
ESTP: Thank you for reminding us that so many risks are worth taking.
Thank you for giving me magic, letting me continue to believe in the Easter Bunny and Tooth fairy, after some jerk on the bus ruined Santa Clause.
Thank you for all the times you could have given up on us, but you didn’t.
“I will never know the feel of human touch again! I will never love! I WILL DIE ALONE!!!” I continued, fanning myself with a scrunched up magazine.
Trying to survive as a young professional, I have learned qualities that are needed in order to endure the realities of a dog-eat-dog-world.