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Hosting a Dinner Party for My Mistakes
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As the year winds down, I’ve been journaling more than ever. Maybe it’s the pull of reflection — taking stock of what I crossed off my vision board (not much honestly), trying to sort through my emotions, or just staring at the train wreck of my year. Somewhere between writing apologies to my future self and scribbling down lessons I should’ve learned, I had a thought:
Why not throw a dinner party for my mistakes?
After all, they’ve been with me all year — loyal, consistent, and wildly inconvenient.
The table is set. Picture mismatched plates, a basket of slightly burnt breadsticks, and a bottle of wine so cheap it might as well be grape juice. The candle in the middle flickers dramatically, barely holding on — just like me. It’s a disaster, and honestly, it’s perfect for my guest list.
The First Guest: Impulsive Texting
The door flies open, and in barges Impulsive Texting, dragging a suitcase full of regrets and holding a screw-top bottle of wine that screams “Please die of humiliation.”
“Remember that time you texted first? Again?” it sneers, throwing itself into the chair at the head of the table.
