An Open Letter To People Who Have Their Sh*t Together

Flickr / Ramsey Beyer
Flickr / Ramsey Beyer

Dear People Who Have Their Sh*t Together,

I’ll start by saying I think I used to be one of you. You know, the type of person who made plans, and lists, and would generally go through life seemingly effortlessly and flawlessly. Or maybe I was just faking it? It sure as hell feels like that was somebody else’s life. Because these days I feel like I’m permanently on the strugglebus of life. Anyway, I’d just like to give you a few thoughts on how you look like to the rest of us – you know, the struggling souls who make it through our days in one piece and generally feel like that in itself deserves an Olympic gold medal.

So what inspired this letter, you ask? Well I was at a party last weekend with two friends; a St. Paddy’s party to be exact. And in Chicago, St. Paddy’s is basically where being obnoxious, loud, and rowdy is how we pay homage to the great patron saint of Ireland. (Side note: I actually really like St. Patrick’s day – the Catholic version where we go to mass and ask for intercession from St. Pat. But eh, what is church for, if not for sinners?) Anyway, as we strolled into this neighborhood, after taking the bus mind you, we started to feel a little uneasy. Why was it so quiet? Why were there no people strolling around with “Sprite” bottles through the streets? Was I even in Chicago anymore?

As we walked in, Binny’s bags full of Vodka and Guinness in our desperate hands, my heart sunk. I knew the kind of party I was at. It wasn’t a party where you all just looked into each other’s eyes and understood that today was a day to forget about our twenty-something struggles. No, no, no friends. This was a party where you could just tell by the look in their eyes, and perfectly moisturized hands, that these people had maxed-out 401ks and would never be caught strolling into someone else’s party with Svedka Vodka, and from Binny’s, of all places. These people had their shit together.

Now while I’d like to not rain on the parade of anyone who identifies with this category of 20-something aliens, I’d just like to point out that you lot are ruining life for the rest of us. Life on the “other side” is generally pretty bleak as you can probably not imagine. We don’t get enough sleep, are generally trying not to be so SAF, say prayers before looking at our bank accounts; and our idea of a major life event is when one of us moves into an apartment with a dishwasher. No you don’t understand, we celebrate the shit out of dishwashers in these parts.

All I’m saying is if you people could slow your roll just a little bit and not look at our unmanicured nails with contempt, we who are still trying to figure out how to be adults with all the rights and responsibilities of savings accounts, and trying not to lose our keys, phones, wallets, and dignity every time we venture out, would really appreciate it. We would also appreciate it if you wouldn’t judge us so hard when we venture into places with Svedka. A bottle is $10 and a GLASS would be $14 at a respectable establishment that for some reason bouncers let us get into. (At least we still have our youth apparently.) Still, unless you are generously going to donate to our how-to-be-a-proper-adult fund and share the wealth, just stay in your lane. And we’ll stay in ours. At least, until further notice.

Lots of hate,

Kovie B. TC mark

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