An apology letter to all those I have upset or will upset against my own free will under Mercury retrograde

This is all just a misunderstanding.

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All illustrations ©Emilie Fenaughty

Dear all,
First and foremost, let me bring to your attention that it was never in my intention to hurt your feelings. It wasn’t in my plans either to be born under the realm of the stars and to be a feeble human being under the dictature of the Universe.

That said, if I am to hurt your feelings in the coming weeks, or have hurt your feelings recently, please let it be known that none of it was intended and that I am a mere puppet to the stars and cosmic energies.

To my boss, whom I called a « Small-Dick-Energy-white-privileged-a-hole » at the last meeting: here we go again, me clumsily running my mouth not because I have ideas on how and why you made it to the top of our company in a world organized by and for white males, or about the way you rule the office, but just because some cosmic god decided words should be blurted out my mouth. Let it be known that, even though you may have understood something completely different when I said it, I’m pretty positive « Small-Dick-Energy » referred accurately to that one Little Richard energy. And who doesn’t love to shake their booties on one of Lil’ Dicky’s mighty old tunes? Those words just came out all wrong, and I apologize for that while also asking you to consider Mercury retrograde’s influence on our miscommunication, including the last part of the sentence.

To Stacy, my coworker from Accounting, to whom I inadvertently sent an email destined to Sofia from Sales, with a screenshot from The Office (that I ABSOLUTELY wasn’t watching at work by the way) showing that cat lady and the caption « Doesn’t it look like ‘uptight Stach’? » — this was NOT about you. First of all, your name is Stacy, and not Stach, and second of all, the fact that you do have a pretty hairy upper lip (which is totally fine btw, as a dear fellow of the Universe, I support and am committed to loving everyone in their own light and beauty) could not contribute to the assumption that this was about you.

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To my boyfriend, whom I called by the name of James while we were having sex. Who happens, not only to be my ex’s name, but also — and this is the funny part — of my long-deceased red fish from when I was three. Sure, we never talked about him, and this detail of my early existence never came to mind, but there lies a secret unique to the subconscious realm. And everyone knows Mercury has a key to our subconscious we didn’t even know existed. Like that key James may still have to my place and which would explain why you saw him leave my flat recently even though I was on a girls’ yoga retreat week-end.

To my local grocery store worker, I am sorry in advance if I call your avocados « grinch-colored horseshit », as well as ask why your prices have gone up three times in the last four months with an apparently upset voice. I may seem angry but I am just genuinely interested in the avocado preservation process and the fluctuation of produce prices in the global age.

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To my ex, whom I texted around 3am last Sunday. I am sorry you interpreted my obviously drunk text as an attempt at getting back together. This « U up babe? been shrinking bout u » text was actually destined to Mr Xylophone, my shrink, in a moment of pure weakness. And yes, I happen to call him babe, sometimes. Especially when I’m drunk and sad at 3 am on week-ends. It’s all part of the therapeutic process, I swear. He’s made himself very available. But Mercury retrograde helping, my thumb just clicked on your name in the contact list. Yeah, guess what, J is right next to X in my repertory. Yeah, I don’t know a lot of people James, what about it? Everyone texts on Facebook Messenger now anyways.

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To my kid, whom I wasn’t able to pick up from school on time for the last two weeks. Kiddo, do you know Mercury retrograde fucks with traffic and that it is not recommended to be traveling during this time? This might explain why I’ve been stuck in traffic multiple hours every day, or why I’ve been reluctant to come pick you up and sometimes chose to listen to a Divine Feminine meditation in a warm bath instead. Mercury retrograde is also all about coming back to yourself. And guess what? I haven’t been able to do so in a long time since you came to this world ripping off my vagina. Give mommy a break sweetie: take the bus.

Apologetically-astrologically-submissively-yours,

Marylin (from Marketing),

AKA ”Babe”

AKA ”the avocado bitch”

AKA ”Mom”.

French-American writer. Comedian. Traveler. Witch. Featured on VICE (fr) — or how I got paid to write about my life instead of going to therapy. Paris//Chicago

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