Open Letter

Good morning, strike that, evening.

First of all, how are you? I know you're probably doing well, Mr. Universal You, living your life one calculatedly selfish moment at a time. I know you're well, that you wish you had a new job, that you're fine and doing well. But, and let me just emphasize this, are you really doing well? Let's face it, I'm worried about you Mr. Universal You. I'm worried that you're not living up to my expectations for you. I'm worried that you're not living up to your own expectations. I'm worried that you'll never be half as good as you could be and that you know it. Worse yet, I think you're trying to hide it from everyone, especially yourself. I'm worried that you think you're doing enough when you aren't. I'm worried that if you're fortunate enough to have children, their lives are going to be harder and that everything you sit there callously taking for granted will be a minor victory for them. I worry Mr. Universal You. I worry.