What do you do when you hit rock bottom? When you truly have nothing else to hope for? Hope has gone out the window to follow Pain and Despair as it refuses to stay inside Pandora’s box any longer.

Every year at my birthday when the time comes to blow out my candles, I wish for the same thing. Happiness. And every year at my birthday when the time comes to blow out my candles, I realize, that my wish has yet to come true. Granted, I’ve had moments or pleasure, of sporadic happiness, but I’ve never felt a moment of genuine happiness, that I could just die at that moment and I would feel like my life would have been complete. Is that so much to ask for? I’m not asking for a pet rhinoceros or to be pretty because God only knows how that those are never going to happen. I just want everything to fit into place. I’m jealous of everyone who seems to have it together. That’s all I want… That’s all I really want.

It’s almost springtime right? Flowers are blooming, birds are singing, it’s supposed to be the happiest time of year. Yet, for some reason there’s always something wrong. Why is it that no one can truly have it all? Why can’t we all just find the perfect outfit, perfect man, perfect job, perfect family, perfect friends, and perfect life, according to our own demands? Is it really that much to ask for? Some people seem to have it all, while other seem to have nothing. Yet even these people, who have all the ingredients to happiness, don’t know what to do with them. They know others are so much worse off than them. So they live lives of quiet desperation, pretending everything is just fine. When nothing really is.

Valentine’s day is coming up, and instead of hoping and wishing to find Mr. Right now, I’ve given up. Is that normal? I see boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands and wives, happy as clams, and I just want to hurl. Pink makes me blind and dressing up in the morning seems pointless. Is it normal to be this cynical at such a young age?

From young adolescents, to middle aged housewives, to old tenure professors, none of us can be cured of this sickness. Is it so hard just to ask to be happy?

Confused at the bottom,

Laura Marianne

“It’s sad but it’s true how society says / Her life is already over / There’s nothing to do and there’s nothing to say /Til the man of her dreams comes along picks her up and puts her over his shoulder / It seems so unlikely in this day and age.”

Lily Allen, “22” It’s Not Me, It’s You (2009)

Sex. What a broad fucking topic, right? What is it? When to do it? How to do it? Where to do it? Who to do it with? These are the fundamcondomental questions of life, people! Something that started as a primal instinct to reproduce became a vital pleasure in our lives. Then why does it always make them so complicated!?

I mean virgins… As a virgin, you’re either idolized or shunned. It’s like you’re a saint, so pure, so innocent, so naif. Or you’re a prude, so stuck up, so shy, such a tease. I mean when do you know when to give up “your most precious gift”? First chance? First love? First marriage?

And how the HELL do you know what you’re doing? What’s this? What’s that? Is this okay? Does that hurt? I don’t know what to tell you boys and girls, but sex is a science.

And anyway, what’s sex? Home plate? Third base? Short stop? It’s supposed to be hot, and sexy, and maybe even romantic, if you want, but for some reason you always end up doing the nasty in a park at 4 in the morning against a tree, with a bottle of Tequila in your hand, and all you’re left with the next morning is a hangover and a serious case of rug burn.

And then the mushy gushy emotional baggage that comes in two overweight duffel bags and an extra carry on. Now that is where everything gets really complicated. Between the self conscious slut who fucks guys to feel wanted, and the over confident player who fucks any moving female, there’s always someone who gets hurt. So just take a step back, and think about it, it’s not as big a deal as those cheesy soap operas make it out to be. The first time isn’t going to be romantic and beautiful. You’re not gonna want to write poetry about making love for the first time. It’s gonna be awkward, and messy, and scary. But after that, you just enjoy the ride, no pun intended.

Here’s my philosophy: In the wise words of Nike, Just Do It. Doesn’t matter if it sucks, or if it’s disgusting, the truth is, you’re gonna have some bad times, and you’re gonna have some good ones. So go out there kids and fuck!

I’ll leave you at that,

Laura Marianne

“Sex. Yes well Sex. What do you say about sex really. You like a guy… you do it with him… sometimes he calls, sometimes he doesn’t.”

– Anita Olesky, Never Been Kissed (1999)