Hey, 16 year old me. It's me again. The washed up 37 year old version of yourself. I would like to give you some advice. Do a whole bunch of drugs. Drink more. Get out of the house. That person you're pining for is not worth it. Trust me, I can see this all with the clarity of someone who honestly doesn't want to wake up in the morning any more. And it all started with you. You, 16, wishing for something and watching too many John Hughes movies. Stop watching so much TV. Throw away your comic books. Take down all your stupid posters and cut your fucking hair. Maybe then we'll both have a chance. Eh, who the fuck am I kidding? You can't hear me. I'm sure right now that the 57 year old me is trying to send the same message to the 37 year old me, but then again, I don't see myself ever being 57. Then again, I thought I'd be dead by the time I was 23. And I sure wished I was dead by the time I was 30. So what the fuck do I know, being 37? I've learned absolutely nothing at all. So I have nothing to teach to you at all.

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I wish there was some exorcism I could perform. Some dramatic undo that will take all of this away. Some other world that I could open a door to, somewhere that I could escape from the fog that surrounds me. I can't even escape my world when I dream, as I toss fitfully between glimpses into worlds that don't have any business existing.

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I have a million words but there are only two that I really want to say. That's a lie. I have like a million words that I'd like to say but only three that I'd really want to say. But that's the problem with words. No matter how many you have, they will never change your world.

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Grilling in the winter is the only way to cook. Because when food is hot, you can just take it off the grill and roll it in snow and make it cool down. I realize many of you will find this ridiculous, but this is how I live my life.

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I was three feet away but I may as well have been three miles. It was all I could do to keep making blood flow to my heart and brain and legs and arms and finish why I was there. And then I drove home the wrong way.

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The grass is under a layer of ice and snow, achievable only through my dog's insistent nose borrowing. He will find the green under the gray. Beauty remains even if we can't find it.

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