Right now you are in my head. . . somewhere. Hiding. Over the next twelve months my mission--should I choose to accept it--is to squish you from my brain to this intimidating, blazingly white Word document screaming in the other window I have open on my laptop. Right now I must admit, you seem like a bit of a bully. I keep telling myself that you're not so big and bad; you're not so tough.
Well. . . you might just be, but I am going to pretend for the next twelve months that you aren't, and on December 16, I will put you on a shelf, have a wheat beer and then proceed to ignore you for five or ten years, but until then our relationship is important. Please treat me nice--don't be too rough. I know you're scared too. But rest in this fact, the point isn't whether they like you or dislike you. The point, my new friend, is the squishing, so come on out and meet the world.
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