Feeling: SNORTY

  

Feeling: SNORTY

I didn’t want to come back but by cripes, I’m happy to be home. 

Before I left I wrote a wee note for the parentals, informing them under strict instruction to only peer between the pages should tragedy befall me. 

Here it is for your titter benefit. Absolutely unedited, minus taking out the c-word (can’t have any of that). 
“To dear Henio and Deborah

This is just a little letter should anything befall me during my stint away “finding myself” in India or Nepal. If something occur and I not return, I bloody hope it’s because I’ve been killed off in an avalanche rather than raped and linched by a horny Indian. 

So, should something happen to me: do not waste time and money bringing back my body. I’m not in it anymore and I don’t care where it is. To be honest, my body holds ED and I think when I die I’ll finally be free of the c-word, so my body doesn’t matter. Everything important that adorns my body – my rings, bracelettes, etc – I’ve left behind in my bedroom, which is what I’d want kept. Mum, wear my rings on a chain and I’ll be happy. 

You guys can have all my belongings, but don’t get too excited – I estimate selling them off would only fetch you about $200 at the most. Not many assets to my name unfortunately! But at least you won’t inherit my student loan, there’s a plus. 

Funeral wise, I’d want a fun, lively affair with lots of laughter and colour. NO ONE CAN WEAR BLACK. I know there will be tears because “everyone loves me” (haha), but I want tears celebrating my life too. Lots of photos too, and of course Otto and Angus must be in attendance. I’d want one big yummy smelling candle (like a vanilla or caramel scented one – not any citrus shit) lit, and for you to keep it and light it every so often in the lounge next to Bampga’s one. I’d also want a big stream of coloured balloons let loose to the sky as well, but please ensure you have a good gust of wind because knowing us it would fuck up and blow into a tree or something. Maybe get helium to be on the safe side. 

For my funeral pamphlet (is that what it’s called?), include lots of photos of you guys too, including the dogs. Maybe the front picture the one of Otto and I from a few years ago? And lots of rainbows, suns and hearts. Photos are all on my laptop so just sift through and have a look through. I’d love it if I could have a eulogy from Dad, Uncle Cock, Steph, Beaver, Abbey and Jason. You as well Mum, depending on how you’re holding up. Anyone else who’d want to as well, but maybe check over Abbey’s first for inappropriate content (haha). And don’t waste $$$ on an expensive funeral either – just have it somewhere big so lots of people can fit, then you guys go overseas on holiday. Funeral songs: Closing Time Semisonic (because I just have to go out on a pun), Lemon Tree Fool’s Garden, Magic Carpet Ride Steppenwolf, Unwritten Natasha Beddingfield and Breathe Michelle Branch. Good tunes!
I’m not scared of dying. So don’t be too sad I haven’t lived a long life. Though I’d have loved to do more, see more, and actually use my degree and make something of myself, this would be a cool way to go and I bet I’d make the front page of the Herald on Sunday. If I do and journalists call, please talk to them. Or better yet, don’t talk to any of them except for Steph or Jarred Williamson, and let their career be heavily launched by the Wortman exclusive. 

Keep my bedroom as a shrine to me. Just kidding – none of the stuff in there is that important. Except: my photo/day scrapbooks in the corner of my wardrobe; you can read through them, but don’t mock me too much. There’s some embarrassing shit in there!! And keep all my photo albums please. I’d love to think of offspring down the line, like Michael or James’ kids and grandkids, looking through them and remembering me as cool Aunty Pop. 

I firmly believe in life after death, and I will be with you lots. I will flicker lights and do all sorts of shit like that. If you come across an animal or slug or something acting weirdly it’s probably me reincarnated as karma for being a stroppy bitch. But in all seriousness, I’ll come and visit lots. When I’m not smoking fags and sculling wine with Nanna and Bampga, hanging out with cool dead famous people or haunting people I don’t like (just kidding).

You guys have been amazing and I have been so lucky to have been born into this family. I’ve had such a great upbringing and I’ve never wanted for anything. Thank you so much for raising me, putting up with me and being there for me. I have been so so lucky. 

I’m not going to say more goodbyes or anything, because this will become like a suicide note. But just be at peace. I know it will be sad and heartbreaking, but I’ll still be there somewhere. And luckily I’m not so much a hoarder like Nanna or no longer have my ornaments obsession, otherwise clearing out all my stuff would be horrendous. 

I love you guys heaps. Let James, Michael, Angus, Otto, Opa and Babcia, Uncle Cock, Nina, Maria and everyone else know the same.
 
Lots of love, the one and only
Poppy
  


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