Sunday, January 1, 2017

Dear Buffy

Hey B,

It's early afternoon on New Year's Day, and right now I'm just staring at my computer the way you started at the tv on the day after you discovered beer in "Beer Bad." You touched the tv and you were like "I like tv, all the tiny people..."

Anyway, I hope this year is better than the previous. 2015 was so bad, and when it was over I was so happy because I thought nothing could have been worse than the year I was assaulted, cut out of a tv show I was in, and hit by a car. And then came 2016, and it was so rough and lonely. ("There's that word again, what you are, how you'll die: alone")

But I am totally going to be proactive girl this year. If I'm lonely, I'm going to reach out to friends. If I'm clinically depressed and suicidal, I'm gonna get on meds. (Even though when I'm depressed the idea of figuring out health insurance seems like fighting a horde of uber vamps.) If people don't think I'm funny, I'll get funnier. If the world is a horrible place and everything I'm worried about in the news comes to fruition, maybe I'll fly to the top of a mountain, erect a satanic temple, and destroy the world. We can dream.

Speaking of which, what's going on in the comics right now is a little on the nose and they've done a registration act plot a bunch of times in X-Men, but I forgive you because you're Buffy.

Keep slaying,
The hardest thing to do in this world is to live in it,

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