foreword to a memoir never written
Sorry in advance that this book isn’t good, or technically a book, and sorry for this apology. I know you’re not supposed to do this shit, in life or in writing—it gives a bad first impression. Plus the problem of, if you point out some fault, then you’re guaranteeing that people will notice it, when before there was at least a chance they might not have. Like when I ask people if they’ve noticed how my hair has started thinning at the crown—their first answer is always no, until I bend over and point it out to them. So apologizing for a fault upfront completely defeats the purpose, at least for trying to attract people—better to surprise people with your flaws later on, once they’re invested in you / your story—but, like I’ve mentioned, this is not a good book. I just have to be honest.
And sorry for doing the whole self-deprecating thing, but it’s all I have. I guess you could argue that by saying this upfront I’m trying award myself a “Get Out of Jail Free” card for any bad reviews that might come since, hey, I already admitted this sucks. If some other author did such a thing, I know I’d be annoyed. I also know I’m extremely hypocritical.
So yeah, it’s bad, but you can stop reading at any time. Go ahead.
All my thoughts have counterthoughts. Yeah, I hate myself more than you can imagine, but I’m also narcissistic enough to pretend nobody will be able to stop reading this. So I’m constantly trying to eat my cake and have it too, if you get what I mean.
Probably I should have started in media res with my decision to kill myself, or maybe in the hospital after my overdose. Then I’d flashback and describe my fucked-upness chronologically in the form of tragicomic anecdotes, climaxing with a return to the night of my suicide attempt.
(I wish you’d succeeded, I imagine some of you thinking, again trying to have it both ways since—even though I’m imagining some of you hating me—I’m still imagining many people reading this.)
I’d conclude by discussing my triumphant recovery, how everything’s much better now. But things aren’t that much better—at least they don’t feel that way.
I warned you, this is not a good book.