I wrote myself a letter from myself on December 31, 2016. Actually, I wrote from me in December 2017 for me in December 2016, but you understand.
Have you ever woken up in the middle of something horrifying?
“Ah, it’s all good. You can do it all.” I’m sorry, what? Usually this is when I expect a lecture that begins with something like “you can’t have your cake and eat it too” and ends with, “well, something’s gotta give, girl, you crazy.”
I grew up watching my father talk to hundreds upon hundreds of people, off-the-cuff, without notes and with no stammering.