This is a pity party blog post. I blew up gray balloons. I made gray punch that tastes like tears. I set little gray sad-face candles floating in the punch, and then I blew them out and now they’re smoking. Miserably. Because this is a pity party.
So, here I am. Not eating cake. Or ice cream. I’m eating withered broccoli on a gray napkin as I contemplate how hard relationships are.
Relationships are hard.
If you smile, at all, at this pity party, you will be kicked out. I’m warning you. One little tug of the mouth and– you’re out. Dragged by the ears. I will dump the rest of the punch on you before I boot you off the front porch and slam the door. So no smiling. Pity. Lots of self pity. A party of self-pity. If you fail, then I will make you pity yourself as you standing dripping gray tear punch, locked out of my house.
Anyway. We have gathered here today to talk about what hard work relationships are. There are problems. You have to solve the problems. It’s hard. And there are tears. (That’s where you get the punch.) Because you cry because relationships are hard, and it’s work, and relationships were supposed to be filled with sunshine and bunnies. That’s what you were promised, isn’t it? Friendships like frolicking bunnies who drink soda and romances like sunshine and daisies?
I am having a pity party because life is not supposed to be hard. Life is supposed to be handed to me, and I’m not supposed to get upset. Ever.
Pass me the punch. Let us blubber together and refill the bowl of tears. I’ll cry for me, you cry for you, and we’ll both cry for how mean our friends are. I should get rid of these relationships: my relationships are supposed to be perfect.
Let’s pop all the balloons.