Jun
27
2014
0


WhyDid Wisdom: Darlimination
Written by: WhyDid | WhyDid Wisdom

The-people-who-wantWe’ve all seen the quote above.  Maybe we’ve even posted it somewhere.  We pass around all these inspirational quotes on social media sites and we like the shit out of them and put the “raise the roof” emojis in the comment section, but how long do those messages actually stick with us?  In a society with fleeting attention spans being diagnosed as ADD, we’re on to the next photo, conversation, or task in the swipe of a finger.  As great as all these digital “good vibes” are, how many of us are actually living them?

As I nearly melted on the roof of Soho House earlier this week with someone who came quite close to self eliminating himself and is still perilously toeing the line, I explained my theory to him.  For a long time I held onto people in my life who probably didn’t want or better yet, deserve to be there.  I thought that made me a good friend or a loyal person.  I was giving it the ol’ college try.  I was expending lots of energy on people and situations that were serving no purpose in my life and adding no extra happiness or value to my existence.  In reality, they were holding me back from becoming the person I want to be and from the things I really want from life.  It’s a sneaky form of self sabotage that I didn’t even realize– because let’s be real– I excel in self sabotage.  I love putting my little hand right on that still lit stove.

When I stepped back and released my death grip on relationships, the good ones survived and the bad ones choked.  By basically doing nothing except removing myself from the situation and seeing the relationships objectively for what they were, I eliminated a lot of unnecessary drama, hurt, and general fuckery from my life.  I felt lighter, I had more time to spend on things I actually needed to be doing, on people who I enjoy my time with, and didn’t really miss the past at all.  It was literally a relationship detox except there were no violent mood swings, hunger pangs, or wheatgrass shots.

The entire process was pretty much effortless, something else in which I excel.  I didn’t have to sit and ponder and sigh and shrug causing unneeded wrinkles and excess stress as to whether that person should stay or go.  They were doing it for me.  They were eliminating themselves from my life by acting like assholes and I didn’t have to lift a finger.  I just sat back calmly and watched it all play out.  It was survival of the fittest for relationships.  Darwinian.  Hence, “Darlimination.”

After commenting on the flecks of rose gold nail polish (Essie Penny Talk) still clinging to portions of my nails, he nodded his head in agreement (a real life “raise the roof” emoji).  I should probably copyright the name (and probably eliminate him for his manicure commentary, but there’s nothing a chocolate covered cinnamon gummy bear can’t cure).

A perfect example of Darlimination is something that happened a couple of weeks ago.  I had sworn off one very toxic and recurring relationship for the 400th time, and a friend of mine who’d I’d been spending a lot of time with had been missing from the scene.  During that time period, I woke up every morning and was happy.  I didn’t have anything really giddy worthy to smile about- no love life to speak of, still not able to make it rain with hundreds on a Tuesday, and an extra five pounds that seems to have signed a ten year lease and invited over some friends.  However, I was happy.  Like smiling at strangers (okay, strangers’ dogs) happy.  There was absolutely nothing that could bring me down, not even an Instagram feed strewn with photos of an ex and his new Snooki lookalike girlfriend.  Nothing.

And then my little Narnia was blown to bits after allowing both of those emotional vampires back into my life.  I didn’t recognize it immediately.  Well, the bad ex-boyfriend, yes.  How many times must I sing that sad song?  I was depressed and drained and didn’t feel like doing much of anything with anyone.  Poor Smitty.  I became aware that I was letting other people’s bad energy, shitty attitudes, and lack of shared goals and values pollute my otherwise very pretty world.  As much as I’d wanted to share my happiness and hoped it would rub off on them, they just wanted to flounder about in misery and that’s not my kind of party.  So after one too many irrational temper tantrums incorrectly directed towards me and another disappearing act by him, I let them go (“hand wave” emoji).

While this all may sound very selfish, anyone who actually knows me, knows that I’m probably too nice.  But we all have our breaking points and when you start to give too much of yourself helping others, you’re not only hurting yourself but hurting them too.  If you offer someone a piece of your world and they don’t take it or treat it like garbage, let them go.  Smitty is the only one allowed to shit on my floor and even he knows better… most of the time.  Not everybody fits into your life and instead of feeling hurt by that, feel thankful you’ve been shown that they don’t.  Now you have more time and more space for the people and things that do fit.  Rip the Band-Aid off and move on.  What is meant to stick will always stick, what doesn’t wasn’t meant for you  and will disappear.  You just have to learn to be okay with that.  If you’re feeling sad and can’t pinpoint the source, do a relationship audit and figure out if you’re clinging to emotionally depletive relationships.

On the flip side, don’t forget that if you want to be in someone else’s life, you need to put in the effort and be the friend, lover, human that deserves to be a part of that person’s life.  Think about what you’d expect because remember, you can just as easily be extricated.

xx,

WhyDid

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May
16
2014
2


WhyDid Wisdom: Role Playing

role playingA true fan of a good prop and almost all excuses for a theme party (except for 80′s and ugly Christmas sweaters- I will not participate, so just don’t ask), I began to think about role playing.  Not only why it is so fun to slip into someone else’s persona even if only for an evening, but where some people fit into our lives and why they ever bothered showing up– especially without RSVP’ing.

My human wrecking ball reared his ugly head again and this go round completely demolished me and basically left me for dead.  An abandoned building with no plans for reconstruction.  Needless to say, it was a very difficult breakup to shake.  One that even after an extended stay in California post Smitty surgery I couldn’t manage to completely cut off.  Either that or I truly am a masochist.

I’d boarded the plane in Monterey late January/pre-birthday after having no contact for nearly two months, until ol’ Wile E. Coyote realized he was blocked and started bombarding my iCloud email with “I miss you” messages and invitations to cover seedy stories with him in Las Vegas.  True romance.  How could I not be hooked?  I kindly declined and upon arrival back in New York, I felt strong and assured that I’d kicked that nasty habit once and for all.  Sixth time’s a charm, right?  But just as all men must be born with one, his radar went off and he was able to track me down and catch me during a moment, wherein I was lonely, cold, and a few too many glasses of wine in.  The instant the door shut behind him the next afternoon, I immediately regretted having given in so easily.  His half assed apologies and falsified justifications were hardly enough to have allowed him to even take me to a shitty bottomless brunch.  Yet I had suffered what would be considered a relapse which had adorably been renamed by my friend- the only way of making it sound less tragic than it actually was.

block number

Numbers were re-blocked.  iMessage turned off.  Celibacy sworn.  Don’t worry, I was sure to repeat steps one through three two more times before finding out about his other concurrent victim girlfriend.  True to form, it had taken something terribly awful for me to finally throw in the towel.  This was ultimately the point of no return and surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as bad as I’d expected though it did disturb me a little for more than many reasons.

When a new (and wonderful) girlfriend asked that I please accompany her to meet up with some friends in the East Village one Sunday night early this spring, I was not expecting to walk into a startling and bewitching mix between Johnny Depp and John Lennon.  As someone who is normally all but immune to the male mystique, I was completely thrown off guard while being simultaneously drawn in.  I wouldn’t have been surprised if my mouth had actually dropped open onto the vintage wooden table where he and his bearded friends sat.  Covered in tattoos and stone cold sober, he wasn’t my standard breed.  He was actually nearing the polar opposite of the past, but after some bonding over Lionel Ritchie lyrics and exchanging of Instagram handles (the new phone number), I was sold.

johnny deppTurns out, the feeling was mutual.  At least for the next week and a half.  We made plans soon after and we spoke all day everyday following our outing.  We shared the same quick, sick, twisted humor and had similar ideologies as well as professions that complemented each other’s.  Though I thought he could potentially have had some staying power- there are very few people who can keep up with my undaunting and sometimes indecipherable wit- he all but fell off the face of the earth after having made lots of “future plans” with me and Smitty.  Oddly enough, this actually ended up upsetting me more than being dumped for someone who can’t legally buy a beer in the US.  After a few pow-wows with girlfriends and coming up with nothing but a lot of shoulder shrugging and ice cream sandwiches, we chocked it up to the “blackhole of dating” that is New York City.  The best way I was able to come to terms with the jilt was realizing that while he may not have been a forever in my life, he was an all but crucial bridge in the road to my recovery and healing.   And even though his behavior was only slightly north of total douchebag, I am so grateful to him for getting me over that little week long hump that could have just as easily sent me right back down the rabbit hole straight into another relapse.

It would have been just as easy to start wondering and obsessing about what was wrong with me and feeling angry at him, but instead I was reminded that I can not only be incredibly attracted to someone else, but there are other interesting fellows still out there.  Gentlemen who like you- if only for a moment in time.  Even if they do wear weird jeans and in retrospect probably wouldn’t have fit into your life longterm, it’s nice to be reminded how it feels to be pursued.  To be reminded that you are smart and funny and worth being treated with more respect than a dirty dishrag at a C grade sushi restaurant.

So, you see, not everyone is meant to be a lifelong soulmate, friend, or boyfriend.  Sometimes people are strategically placed into our lives at the exact moment we unknowingly need them to teach us lessons, save us from ourselves, and prepare us for what lies ahead.  And instead of feeling bitter and holding onto the anger about being abandoned, passed over, or neglected it’s best to look more intently into their ultimate purpose and thank them for coming to our party.  Even if they left without cleaning up, they technically did bring a hostess gift and it’s up to you to figure what that was and be grateful for it.

xx,

WhyDid

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Jan
31
2014
0


WhyDid Wisdom: Reserve Yourself
Written by: WhyDid | WhyDid Wisdom

annoying callerWinter is the time of year when many of us yearn to couple up in order to stay warm and potentially lower our ConEd bills. A lot of my friends are what could be considered professional daters. I’ve stopped asking what any of their chaps’ names are because I can’t keep up and would need a very elaborate flow chart in order to stay entirely in the loop. I’m always in utter amazement as to how they meet all of these fellas because most of my male companionship comes from my dog, gentlemen playing for the other team, and re-runs of Frasier. Ironically, I think I’ve just cracked the code as to my singledom with that last sentence.

Anyway, unlike myself, you’ve been hitting the town and getting hit on, you little minx, you. And in the mix of things, you’ve met a couple of cuties who have actually made it beyond asking for your number in between swigs of Jameson and you’ve spent a handful of cozy dinners and Saturday brunches at Extra Virgin and Cafe Cluny with one, maybe two, in particular. You knew it was meant to be when he ordered another round of mimosas and declared that there may be nothing better in this world than a great chocolate chip pancake except for maybe a hammock on Alphonse Island. In your mind, you’ve already started planning your June wedding at the St. Regis and have named your first born child due early next fall (you decided on something gender neutral and inanimate). You’re a perfect match much like Domenico and Stefano, so you can’t quite put your perfectly polished finger on why your affections, and text messages aren’t being returned.

Ready for an awful truth?

(You may need a quaalude and a seat for this). Okay, you know that one guy who continues to text you after countless subtle blow offs, blatant verbal abuse and finally virtual radio silence? You know… the one who tricked you into giving him your number after you said you’d just take his and then called himself from your phone. Yeah, that guy. Well, you may very well be that girl.

I know. It seems highly improbable, even mind blowing, that anyone male, female, or house plant could possibly resist your feminine wiles, biting wit, and Pilates body. But alas, as hard as it is to wrap your pretty little head around, you may have found the one and only human this side of the galaxy not interested in you or the Illuminati conspiracy theories.

Fine, maybe you didn’t bamboozle your way into his Blackberry (who still has one of those, by the way?), so let’s use another example. You know the sort of goofy handsome guy you went out with from Goldman Sachs? While he was perfectly nice and in “theory” should be a totally perfect partner completely capable of rearing healthy children and providing a stable lifestyle for your future family, there was just one problem. You didn’t feel any of that wild, crazy, I must have you more than this season’s Céline. He didn’t do anything wrong, per se. He was a perfect gentleman and has since then been hitting you up to have a second, third, and final date… before that wedding he’s planned in his head complete with future (already named) child.

Yep. It’s all starting to click isn’t it?

beyonceWe’ve all got a few of those guys lying around much like the Federal Reserve has a few spare bricks of gold. They’ll never get used, but it’s nice to know that they’re there for security’s sake and all. At one point, there were so many “code names” in my phone that I hadn’t really any clue who was calling anymore. I just knew I wasn’t going to answer under any circumstance. Not even after two dirty martinis. Okay, I have responded on occasion to these “reserves.” Sometimes because I’m just too nice and felt guilty leaving them hanging (passive aggressive much?). Other times I’ve just been totally bored in between checking Twitter and Instagram. There have been lonely nights in between relationships with people I actually liked. And sometimes my friends and I think it’s downright hilarious. Call me a mean girl if you want, but your nose may be growing at this very moment. You’ve totally done the same thing. We all have. And whether you admit it out loud or not, I want you to realize that it’s entirely possible that’s what is going on with you and Mr. Perfect.

While it can take women a little bit longer to warm up to a potential mate, guys know what they want almost instantly. They are hunters by nature and when they see something they want, they go for it. Full force. It’s science. A guy can sway us to the other side after a couple of dates by revealing a shared love of cheese, a dark sense of humor, or just general kindness and good behavior. Inversely, a guy can be completely smitten with a girl and she can crash and burn merely by being a bitch. Don’t be a bitch.

I’ve been given a hard time for having fairly high expectations, and while I may be asking a lot for wanting a 6’0+ gentleman with great style, a sense of humor, brains, charisma, love of small white dogs named Smitty and a handle on his personal finances, I don’t think common courtesy is too much to ask. I certainly do expect my potential love interest to have the capacity to craft up a cohesive text message using the proper your/you’re and two/to/too, let alone actually grasp the concept of dialing my telephone number for voice on voice conversation. As a matter of fact, I don’t think any of that is too much to ask- and you shouldn’t either. I have been pursued hard, like verging on restraining order, so, I know the difference between being the “reserve” and the “jackpot.” If someone can’t even take a moment from his or her grueling life (barring he/she is doing volunteer work in a country without telephone wiring or toilets), that person is probably not particularly interested in you. At very least, you just aren’t ranking high on the priority list and well, that’s a problem.

Listen, it may be disappointing to realize you aren’t someone’s ideal match but, there’s no need to beat yourself up about it or shamelessly and repeatedly throw yourself at someone who just thinks you’re “ok for now.” (Remember DBDG?) Essentially he’s doing you a favor by self eliminating. It’s like Darwinian dating. Instead of wasting any more time on someone who doesn’t see how absolutely spectacular you are, you can keep on stepping… right on towards your true “Mr. Right.” (And you should probably throw in a hair toss or two). You wouldn’t jam your feet into shoes that don’t fit (I mean, maybe), so why would you try to force a connection that just isn’t there? All that comes from that is uncomfortableness and corns. Just repeat to yourself, “No answer is your answer.”

So, next time you are staring at your gold iPhone imploringly, just remember that poor ol’ chap you’ve renamed “Never Gonna Happen” and reserve yourself.

xx,

WhyDid

 

Coincidentally saw this video this afternoon post-posting.  All too fitting.

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Dec
03
2013
5


WhyDid Wisdom: Five Alive
Written by: WhyDid | WhyDid Wisdom

why did kirsten smithSo, a girl and her computer walk into a bar… five years later and here I sit.  Different computer, same girl.  Kind of.  I nearly forgot that the day may have come and gone because the actual WhyDid launch date is a bit blurry as there was a time when I started on Tumblr and made the switch to my very own URL (what a tedious three days of transferring that was).  What I do know is that it was after a triple date at Pastis either at the end of November or the beginning of December when I sat at my grey desk in my grey cube at Henri Bendel crafting my very first blog post.  I had no idea at the time what the hell I was doing, but I pressed on and before you knew it, it was December again.  The first year I threw a party, but every year following instead of the celebration getting bigger along with my traffic and following, it seemed to get a little bit quieter.  And perhaps that’s my own fault.  Five years?  That’s kind of a big deal and without boring you with stats, facts, and figures, I’ve come a long way from a girl in her cube picking out a Tumblr template in between entering PO numbers.  It’s no longer just my parents and dog reading my posts anymore.  WhyDid’s gone global and that’s certainly something to smile about.  So, why am I the one who has the hardest time being proud of that?

Every year, I toy with the notion of putting down my proverbial pen and this past year was certainly a year when I, again, reevaluated everything and considered shuttering WhyDid’s storefront.  I felt beaten down and emotionally exhausted because it is hard to give a piece of yourself on an almost daily basis that may be judged, criticized, or flat out ignored.  It makes you wonder why you are putting forth so much effort at times, but during each moment of  coming incredibly close to giving up, I’d receive a message or a comment from someone thanking me for what I’d written, for being so honest, or for just being me.  These messages more often than not were from people I’d never met before from places I’ve never been.  Realizing that I’d reached someone and made some form of connection, whether large or small has been WhyDid’s salvation.  That’s why I’m even typing this post from sunny California right this minute.   And perhaps, just maybe (okay, definitely) I should have printed out this post from last year and re-read it from time to time during those “walk away from the ledge” moments.

why did blog kirsten smithMy mom recently told me she found a childhood diary of mine.  She swore she hadn’t read through the whole thing, but she did read a few especially endearing adolescent excerpts from my pre-teen thought catalog aloud that made me half laugh, half cringe.  And while I may blush with embarrassment over such silly juvenile musings of my own creation, it’s pretty special to be able to look back at who I was before the world tainted my precious little soul.

Even now when I look back at the things I’ve written here, the images that caught my eye, the way I styled something, or interpreted a trend, I get a little red in the face but I can quite literally see the ways in which I’ve grown and evolved as a human, writer, and editor.  On more than one occasion I’ve looked back and shaken my head about how foolish I’d been, while other times I’m proud of how far I’ve come.  Sometimes I look back only to realize that I already knew all the answers to lessons I’m still learning… over and over again.

One day I received a really nasty comment on one of my posts, ironically about a year ago, wherein an anonymous commenter (because they’re always anonymous) told me my blog was just a dumb personal diary and that no one really cared what I thought.  At the time, I was really hurt by this verbal drive by, but as I pondered longer, yeah, WhyDid is like my diary.  It’s a collection from my own journey and while it may not be everyone’s cup of tea, it’s my kitchen and my kettle and if you don’t like it, that’s okay, find something else to drink.  I’ll still sit with ya.  I also now realize that whoever this person was, didn’t particularly grasp the concept of blogs or social media for that matter.  We’re all documenting something.  Especially in this digital age.  It may no longer be as romantic as a pen and paper or a reel of paper on a typewriter, but it’s just the same.

top knot stylelistAlthough I have yet to be plucked from obscurity and presented with a Pullitzer , it’s those little comments, emails, and messages that keep me going.  At least I know someone out there be it Beijing or Berlin is really reading what I write, truly understanding me, and not just skimming along.  Besides, over the years I’ve learned that sometimes your most loyal supporters aren’t always your closest friends, but perfect strangers who you may never meet, but have kindred spirits and that’s really beautiful.  I have friends, ahem, who don’t even bother reading my blog at all… but I won’t get in trouble for saying so because, well…

Nonetheless, even if no one ever reads what you write, maybe if you never even read what you write, even if it will make no sense to someone who might one day stumble upon it in a pile of antiquities, writing down your thoughts is a gift to your current self as well as future self and potentially someone who needs your words.  A mere sentence or partial phrase with a date can be like a ticket back to memories and emotions past.  We all have old photographs that document the way we’ve changed on the outside, but I now have a vault, a time capsule, of the way my brain and heart and head looked over the past five years and you just so happen to have the key.

Thank you for being a part of my journey.

xx,

WhyDid

 

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Nov
07
2013
6


WhyDid Wisdom: Crazy is Contagious
Written by: WhyDid | WhyDid Wisdom

kirsten smithFirst things first, we’re all insane.  Some of us hide it better than others.  Some of us are in complete and utter denial.  And some of us have just not had the last little screw knocked loose before going completely and totally mad.  I, for one, have never claimed to be sane.  My self-awareness is both one of my best and worst qualities.

I mean, I’m the girl who went all kinds of Carrie Underwood on an ex after finding him at the strip club across the street from our apartment with a woman wearing a cabbie hat.  That was the first time I realized just how crazy I could be.  Having woken up with bruised hands after beating on the window of the cab they had hopped into upon exiting New York Dolls and pouring my red Solo cup full of beer (thanks to the bar next door for providing me with a to-go cup) on them both, I knew the looney in me had been unleashed.  Thank heavens I must have looked like a raccoon with rabies, because had that lady gotten out of the cab, I ‘m not sure what I would have done.  I’m not the type to take part in a girl fight.  Sorry, Jerry Springer, but I do know karate.

That wasn’t the last time I lost my shit.  Remember my little lost bird?  My human wrecking ball(Oh, hey, Miley).  Well, wouldn’t you know, I wasn’t quite through with him.  It’s hard to kick an addiction and I sure do love a challenge.  I’m no quitter.  After having gone north with him and nursing him through a full blown panic attack, I thought I’d seen enough.  But that’s the thing about love, New York, and Pandora’s box, once you’ve been bitten by the bug, there’s no turning back.  If I looked at the situation as a logical human being, which most of the time I am, I knew that it was time to abort mission.  Had one of my girlfriends been sharing her horrifying experience with me, I would have grasped her firmly by the shoulders and shaken her.  However, my cognitive thinking was way out of whack and to be completely honest (another one of my best/worst qualities), I didn’t want to kick the habit.

After an especially volatile text exchange a couple of months ago, I found myself in a puddle of tears on my hardwood floor with Smitty looking on in despair.  I indulged in far too much wine and the lunacy was rolling in like dark storm clouds. Receiving a message that really set me off and having already prepared his grilled cheese, I chucked my phone across the room.  Let’s be clear, I’ve dropped my phone down the stairs on more than one occasion and had a couple of near death experiences with it on the treadmill, I had yet to crack my iPhone screen in all the time I’d had it.  The straw that broke my iPhone’s glass, was me, not an average accident.  I couldn’t even answer my phone, let alone respond to texts without risking shards of glass in my fingers.  Thanks to the cute guys (seriously, they’re so cute) at Gotham iPhone, my cracked glass was repaired, but the same couldn’t be said for my heart– or my sanity.

I knew I’d gone nuts as I stared at my shattered screen.  This was completely out of the norm for me.  After my last breakup, the most tragic of many, I’d behaved like a real lady.  Sure I could have kidnapped his fluffy white cat and left rotting fish in the vents of the Bahl house we shared to haunt him, but I hadn’t.  I took my belongings and my dignity and never looked back.  I thought I’d moved past those emotions when I moved back across the country.  I wasn’t mad or even sad.  Perhaps I just hadn’t cared as much as I’d thought.  To inflict pain on myself, was something I’d never done- though close friends might argue I’m a bit of a masochist.

kirsten smithBut alas, the story doesn’t stop there.  Even after the broken glass, typhoon of tears, and bruised heart and ego, I continued on with the crazy.  A glutton for punishment, I kept trying to put the pieces back together and hold onto whatever it was that had me so hooked.  There’s a very fine line between being loyal and being a lunatic.  I was straddling that line.  So, how on Earth did a seemingly sound woman find herself clinging by bloody fingernails to the last ounce of her sanity?

It took me a while to really grasp what was going on and I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a sliver of my heart that belongs to him today.  I’m still in recovery.  The thing is, a seemingly rational person can be swayed to the other side when exposed to too much mania for too long.  The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. When a person is capable of looking you in the eyes and telling a boldface lie somehow convincing you that you’re the one to blame, more than likely, they believe their own story.  And more than likely if you stick around long enough, you’ll start to believe it too.  No one wants to be rejected and everyone would rather not believe a painful truth.  We all just want to be loved and sometimes it’s just easier to swallow the crazy pill than to be honest with yourself and walk away from something you’ve grown attached to.  But you can’t fix crazy and you definitely can’t fight crazy with crazy.  It’s like when they say never engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed man. In this instance, you’re the unarmed man.  You will not win.  Show me one guy who doesn’t have a “crazy” ex-girlfriend and I’ll show you a liar.  That girl didn’t become psycho on her own.  They never do.  It’s like when someone knocks down the first domino and the rest just follow suit.

kirsten smithSo, I held on until it was no longer possible.  My fingers had to let go in the end and I was forced to begin picking up my own dominos.  Perhaps the only really crazy part was trying to salvage a situation and person who was completely hopeless.  I was not only staying on the Titanic while it sank, I’d gone ahead and sat down with a cocktail to watch.  I can tell you one thing for sure, no one ever won a prize for staying in the midst of a storm.  So, as I sat and tried to figure it all out in the aftermath, my dad reminded me, yet again, that if I understood why some people act the way they do then he’d need to start worrying about me.  And so, the first moment you detect the slightest bit of batty, you need to cut your losses and look for the nearest exit- unless you, too, want to come unhinged.

 

As it turns out, crazy is contagious and there is no known cure.

 

xx,

WhyDid

 

photos by Michael Stielger

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