2. welcome to my funeral

This one is a bunch of mumble-jumble right now. I’m gonna rewrite it this year for my birthday. hold tight. 






Another year around the sun.

Another day spent thinking about my death.




It’s my birthday, by the way.




Yes, I’m one of those witches who thinks death is a natural part of life and that thinking about a dreamy funeral isn’t as mad as it seems.




It’s not that I want to die.

I just want to make sure that if I do, people are going to behave properly at my departure.




I wanna make sure my funeral is awesome.


Just like I was.


Why would anyone want a boring or lame funeral?




I always tell people that if they DON’T talk about me when I’m dead I’m gonna be fucking pissed. Literally if you guys ever stop talking about me, dead or alive, I will be so mad.




I love when people talk about me. And not in a narcisstic or cynical way. I just think I’m pretty awesome, so why not say something about it.




I think if people are talking about me there’s definitely some mean shit being stirred in but for the most part I get pretty good ratings.




There’s a lot of stuff to say about me if you wanna talk shit about someone.




Which I definitely support.




Every once in a while I get a reaction to me where


I’m like ’yeah, okay. i understand why that didn’t work out.’




We were set for failure.




And anyway it will be a beautiful memorial.




I want to be buried in a GARDEN!!!




Like a real WITCH!!




Put me in the backyard garden of an 1880’s mansion on the shore line of Rhode Island’s coast. That’s where I belong.




I want my funeral to take place at the witching hour.


I mean sunset.




Whatever time of the year I die in, the sunset hour for that day.




I want the speeches to go into the dark of night.




I want candles brought out spontaneously but previously prepared for the occassion.


It’s like a movie.




Everyone keeps talking about me as the candles burn down.




Story after story.




It’s like one of those comedy central roasts but it feels warm.




A lot of you will be assholes but in a tasteful way. In a way that I would appreciate and therefore, is acceptable at my funeral.




Pretty much anything goes at my funeral but disrespect.




You guys could dance on my grave but don’t lie about me or my character.




I went through enough character attacks while living.



My hope is, after getting you all in one room together, maybe then you’ll finally have all the pieces of me you need to figure me out.

Maybe the assasinators names will finally be revealed.

But through grace and patience, as always! That’s what I taught you.




I told you to keep talking about me, don’t stop yet.




Keep going.




It’s starting to get good. 




You assholes better celebrate me well.




I don’t care how you do it but god forbids you act like I never happened.




I am a god damn, celebration. Baby!




Clap for me.




One last time.




You know I hate a silent reaction.




I love a wink.


Followed with a bass hit.





A belly laugh.


And a knowing look.




I love when you tell me how much you love me.

I love it more when you do it without words.




I mean I love to do that too.




I loved when you gave me my love back.




You don’t have to acknowledge it if your response is returning.




Love going back and forth is a really beautiful thing.

It’s the best pendulum to swing.




I hope I’ve clearly taught you that before I go.




If not, thank god I wrote this essay.
This “think piece.”
Whatever the fuck this is.
I don’t even know.




It’s just some thoughts I had.




Never stop thinking, ya’ll.




The mind is so powerful.




Don’t just store me in the memories.




I wanna be present everywhere.




I hope you see me once I’m gone.


I will be showing up everywhere.




I want the whole wide world to remind you of me.




Because that’s what you all did for me when I was here.




Okay, I’m starting to cry at my own funeral.




Yup, I’m here.




You get to watch your own funeral.




They allow that in heaven.




But only if you want to.




I’ll definitely be watching what ya’ll do at my funeral so make sure it’s entertaining. Someone better puke at my funeral. And it better be someone totally random and unassuming but in the end it kind of makes sense. Make it a good character arc.


I love a good show.




That’s how I want my funeral to feel!




Omg, I really hope I don’t die soon.




I have so much more to do with my plot line.




I’m just getting started.




It’s about to be SO GOOD baby!!!!!




It’s gonna be the BEST YEAR EVER!!!!




I might get MARRIED THIS YEAR.




I mean, probably not.




But a girl can dream 💫




Either way.




I’m gonna start living out my one true passion.




We all have one true passion but in some lifetimes, we have to find a lot of little passions on the way to finding the big one.

Others know right from the start, like Taylor Swift at age 11. And probably earlier than that.




I’ve always been a writer. But I had been doing it incognito for years.




I also spent a lot of time observing words.




I wasn’t always writing.




But I was always learning to write.




Every time I read, I critiqued how the point of it was told.




I judged how well they communicated the point they were trying to make.

We waste so much time proving points.




Is there really a point to it at all?




I’ve been watching the arts for many, many years.




That’s why I didn’t always notice you guys staring at me.




It took me awhile to get out of my shallow depth of field.




All I could see was the different avenues for self-expression.




I didn’t see the watchers.




I always felt them.




But never had time to check.




I always had somewhere to be.




Amanda taught me how to hide.




That’s why now that I’m taking inventory of the watchers.




Now that I have the time.




I’m noticing too many bad ones.




And missing too many good ones.




I need to get rid of some energy.




And bring in some new energy.




I’ve got to start cutting to gain again.




Training to be skilled.




Surrounding myself with energy that matches my own.




I’ve been laying down the hammer on that lately and it’s making me get stronger.




I’m trying to save the low people.




But they keep biting at my knuckles.




It takes time to regrow a hand.




But then I’m good again.




Stronger now.




Better now.




I know more now.




I know that watchers are very good at absorbing your energy without engaging. It’s like watching porn. But with instagram guidelines. That’s why I keep mine unattractive and pure. I don’t want people thinking I’m something to be grabbed on there.




I wanna edge myself down so that I fit in and don’t get vampires coming for blood.


Because I’m the height priestess.




I mean the high priestess.




From tarot!




Anyway, I love you all.




Thank you so much for coming out.




But really, I think it’s time to go home.




You know that was always my favorite part of the day.




Talk about me as much as you can!




And always!




Be thinking about me!








Love you.




XoXo.




M.










P.S. this was so awesome for me to write because I know somewhere at the bottom of a landfill there there’s a page from my 8th grade journal that says I don’t want to die because my funeral would be too embarrassing.

Now a flower is growing where paper rotted and rebirthed.




I hadn’t made enough friends to die yet.




Not enough people knew the real me in middle school.



Or maybe they did and I just didn’t know me.


It was convinced it would’ve been so lame.




It’d give me anxiety to think about dying and having a funeral held for me.


WHO CARES??
I WOULD’VE BEEN DEAD.
LOL!!!


Anyway.


Look at me now.




My day of mourning is going to be so regal and chic.




You’re gonna love it.




Remember...




(crowd beings to say “TALK ABOU-”)




That’s right.




TALK ABOUT ME.





(crowd applauds)




(roses begin to pour onto the stage as if posessed by the most beautiful magic in all the land 💫 )

U︎︎︎P

DO︎︎︎WN