May you achieve just enough success to keep you from giving up and finding satisfaction elsewhere, but never enough success to truly relax.
May the colleagues that you badmouth the most have nothing but kind things to say about you when you’re not around, leading everyone in the office to conclude that you are a fundamentally disagreeable person.
May you be like Guy Fieri: may the things you love the most be considered ridiculous by the world at large.
Whenever you want to watch either Working Girl or 9 To 5, may the other one always be the only one streaming on Netflix Instant.
May none of your friends take your food allergy seriously; may they always pretend to forget just before serving you something you’ve told them you can’t possibly eat.
May you be labeled “difficult” after you have left the room. May your colleagues stonewall you without ever explaining why they don’t want to help. May “I don’t know what you’re talking about” become the sentence you hear most often, and the sentence you dread the most.
May all of your closest friends receive book deals for ridiculous and overly-topical premises; may your obvious disdain for their undeserved good fortune put such a strain on your relationship that you both remove one another from your gchat list.
May your life’s passion be met with global indifference.
May your incompetence never recognize itself as such; may you remain forever in the dark when it comes to the limits of your abilities. May you never quite understand why you never get the job you believed you were perfect for, but were in fact ludicrously underqualified for.
May the fears about yourself that wake you in the middle of the night all be the truest things you ever think about yourself.
May you be seen crying at work.
May your social media presence be so off-putting that it causes your real-life friends to distance themselves from you.
May the most substantive emotional support you can offer a grieving friend be the febrile sentiment “Sending good thoughts your way” in a Facebook comment.
May everyone you lend books to return them unread or keep them forever.
May your partner never be awake when you whisper “Are you awake?” because you desperately need a sign that someone or something cares about the anguish of your heart, that connection is possible. May your partner feign sleep in order to avoid intimacy with you.
May you become the emotional burden you sometimes fear yourself to be.
May your children think of you the way you think of your own mother.
May you never be understood in the comments.
Mallory is an Editor of The Toast.