I just really need for somebody to tell me that I am not awkward and weird and hopeless or for somebody to tell me that I’m awkward and weird and hopeless but that it’s ok to be awkward and weird and hopeless but everybody is either gone away for the holidays, or is in the wrong time zone and therefore unphoneable (although it’s almost 2 am here so even if you are in the right time zone, we’re way past the point where phoning is appropriate) or both.
Hello, my name is Alexandra, and I am clearly a lost cause. And also I have a tummy ache. Probably this will turn out like that horrible Bette Davis movie where she gets a headache and then dies.
You are not awkward, weird, or hopeless. Okay, so sometimes you are weird, but it’s in a good way, and you are not generally awkward and you are never, ever hopeless. Okay?
We are all awkward and weird and we all feel hopeless sometimes, but that’s what makes us human – that’s what can make us special – that’s what makes us less hopeless. You’re not alone, you’re loved.
This is one of those rare occasions when it is a great relief to realize that we actually don’t exist as characters in a Bette Davis movie.
Dear Alexandra, I heart you. You are awesome, and sassy, and amazing; even if right now you don’t feel like it. You still are, because you’re you.
My cell phone # is 968.647.5510 and I am always, always phoneable.
I miss you. You should ditch your family and come to New York where we are having REAL WINTER.
If you come, I will save you a snowball when the rest of it melts.