Dear Father (like, priest father, not my biological one)


Book update: I’ve been working diligently on finishing one section per week. I have also discovered the usefulness of making lists with checkmark boxes to accomplish such tasks! And. It. Feels. Great. Good? Okay? Well, it feels like I’m writing, and have a lot more work to do, really. But I’m getting stuff done, and that’s something. To celebrate (procrastinate?), here’s another lil excerpt.

Dear Father (like, priest father, not my biological one who tries to learn Katy Perry songs on guitar),

I’m writing this confession as a letter because it’ll help get my thoughts out in a clear, orderly fashion. I also don’t want to risk catching the ol’ Jesus bug by stepping foot in your place of work. So, here goes…

1. Sometimes I don’t wash my hands after flushing at home if I’m at least 50 percent sure no pee has touched my hands. 

2. I used to cheat when we had to run miles in middle school PE by hiding Sharpies in my shoes and marking my card when they weren’t looking. 

3. I’ll occasionally wear the same underwear three days in a row just out of convenience. 

4. I masturbate to unflattering pictures of my boyfriend’s ex. 

I guess I should elaborate on that last one some more…

I do it because it makes me feel good about myself. I also occasionally stalk her Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest, just looking for reasons to hate her even more than I already do. I look at her one tweet from November of last year–a mediocre attempt at a joke–and fantasize about how long it took her to write, and how many funnier ones I could come up with.

I look at her Pinterest (which she’s also seemed to have lost interest in) judging her for her 171 pins of expensive, not-my-taste clothes, meat and gluten filled recipes, and idolization of the bratty, privileged twenty-somethings on “Girls,” and it makes me glad I’m not her.

I look at her Facebook (which is private) and stare at her pixelated profile picture (one that my boyfriend took of her two years ago that she still hasn’t changed for some reason??) and have mixed feelings. Partially because I’m happy her dumbass face isn’t showing in it, but also disappointed that it’s not because, IMHO, she’s not photogenic, and this would just be one more picture I could use to get myself off.

Occasionally, I even go so far as to navigate to her non-private friends’ profiles to look bad photos of her and satisfy my sinful craving. It brings a smile to my face to see her in all her sloppy-drunk glory, bloated from drinking beer, and making intentionally unattractive faces to, I’m assuming, hide the fact that she has an unintentionally unattractive smile.

Her Instagram is private, but her friends’ aren’t. My morning ritual consists of navigating to three different profiles, checking to see if anyone’s posted a picture of her in the past eight hours since I checked it before I went to bed. To top it all off, I habitually report her account as inappropriate, just for the hell of it, but also because she does this thing where she “likes” our mutual friends’ posts before I do, and refuses to do so if I get to them first.

I’ve googled her every which way to dig up more dirt. “xxx USC,” “xxx blog,” “xxx dead to me and made me wind up in therapy go suck a dick” All for the sole purpose of hating everything about her. I hate her because she’s high maintenance, loves drinking, never wears the same outfit twice. I hate her because she has a side part and no bangs. I hate her because she listens to that awful EDM stuff.

I hate her because the more I hate her, the better I’ll feel about myself, right? That’s how the universe works? Every strike against her will help me forget about the times she interfered in my relationship and made me feel like shit with her refusal to let the past go? Every awful picture of her will make me think it’s acceptable that I don’t like booze or bowling or clubbing, as if my lack of interest in these activities doesn’t make me feel like an outsider who will never be normal? Every orgasm I have via those pictures of her stupid face will push my insecurities back into the dark cave from where she coaxed them and then set them on fire? Yeah? Okay, yeah. Moving on…

In addition to being obsessed with this girl who ruined my life, I also:

5. Snapchat pictures of myself in traffic on the 10 West.

6. Eat gluten sometimes, maybe.

7. Slouch.

8. Think evolution is the shit. 

Thanks, Father!

Love, Annie

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