Here’s a sad fact—I have over five boxes of crap sitting in my basement. These boxes are filled with Wesleyan items I never unloaded. Every day I go through these trinkets and relive memories of things that once happened or cringe at my stupid behavior, but I can’t bring myself to lighten my load.
Which, ostensibly, has been my problem. I bear too much; I cart around too many feelings. I’ve racked up a lot of negative emotions and regrets and I need to reset my karmic wheel so you’re all going to be the recipient. Without further ado, this is a string of apologies and regrets I have been holding on to for far too long.
First of all, I regret shopping at all those thrift stores in Middletown. Although buying a fake fur jacket seemed like a good idea at the time, I know now that they shed all over the place and smell like Ben-Gay. Plus, there’s no feasible way to wash a jacket like that (and I’m not taking it to a dry cleaner).
I regret never once having a clean dorm room at Wesleyan. I used to tell my friends that the reason why my room was a mess was because I didn’t have enough space for my things. The truth is I’m a slob. People could never walk through my room for fear of slipping on a pair of dirty underwear or stepping on an uncapped pen. And whether I live in a studio apartment or a penthouse, my living quarters are always destined to look a crack addict’s den.
I feel pretty bad about hooking up in random rooms of houses, especially when I didn’t know the occupants of those houses. For some reason, the dim lighting and the jello shots made your house seem romantic. My fault!
Also, I’m sorry for all the people I may have insulted, inadvertently or advertently. And that apology isn’t merely because I need friends and fans. I had a show at Wesleyan which didn’t carry over so well, and I may have said a harsh word or two (not on the Michael Richards level, I hope), but it was pretty bad. So I apologize—please don’t make any Facebook groups demonizing me.
Since this is the “all secrets must go” article, I’ll be honest with you guys. I’m also sorry for my skittishness around public bathrooms. This is going to be really embarrassing, but I can’t poo in public places because I fear anal herpes. I only defecated in five bathrooms around the school—and I strategically picked them out by studying the traffic flow (I had Excel spreadsheets charting the amount of defecators and everything). I did have a bad moment when I completely destroyed a toilet though. I hadn’t gone in days and I searched through six floors of the Science Building before taking a huge smelly dump in a clean handicapped stall and leaving a massive floater in the toilet. I’m so sorry for whoever had to use the bathroom after me. Whew, glad I got that one off my chest (not literally, you scat freaks).
While we’re on that theme, I also apologize for constantly urinating in public. I don’t know what it is—I get drunk and my bladder shrinks to the size of a pea. This apology is more for the womenfolk, since many of my female friends were grossed out (which was compounded by the couple of times when they had to hold me up while I peed).
And finally, a huge apology to you: the adoring public. I really haven’t been on my game lately, and I haven’t been as original or as boundary-pushing as I could have been (I think back to that masturbation article…sigh, good times). I’m used to handing in stellar work (okay semi-stellar work), but my self-confidence is shot and my articles have had less flair than a Puritan dinner. I should have been putting in everything and instead I’ve been trying to emulate this vague notion of success. I still feel like I’m pulling punches, like I’m not being as much me as I want to be.
So there, I’m completely sorry. And you know far too much about me. But that’s okay. I don’t want you guys to have a huge master list of apologies. If I’ve learned one thing from writing for this newspaper again, it’s that I can’t dwell in the past. I can’t continue to immerse myself in a sea of what-ifs and lamentations. I’m spewing all this stuff because this is all me and if I want to get anywhere in life, I have to start owning up to myself and my quirks.
Which leads to my final thought: accept yourselves and move on! Do the things that truly appeal to you. Go streaking through Olin, use the dirty stall in the restroom, tell your crush you want to kiss them on the mouth (but don’t make out with them without their consent). I don’t want you to get stupidly reckless, but I want you to live, to do all the things that many alumni wish they got to do. If you have fewer boxes of regret to lug around when you leave college, you’ll feel lighter and more able to immerse yourself into your future.
Well there’s my swan song and my soapbox. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bunch of old stuff I have to throw out. Carpe diem, folks.
P.S. I so don’t feel bad about defiling other people’s houses. That’s something stupid and reckless that every college student should do!
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