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Just trying to have some fun with it // None of this is meant to be taken seriously // Contributing editor at P.S. I Love You // srm5082@gmail.com

A brief primer on letting it out.

Sometimes you just need to have a good cry.

Maybe you’ve lost someone you love. Maybe life isn’t going the way you thought it would, and you’re feeling a little bit powerless to change your trajectory. Perhaps your job sucks. Could be you hurt someone or yourself. Or maybe you just had a pretty shitty day, a week, a month or even a year.

The potential reasons for a justified weeping are nearly infinite. And just when some of us think we’ve run out of reasons, another one or two darken our doorstep.

(I’d actually go as far as to…


An ode to “PS I Love You,” a writing home without which I fear I’ll be more lost than ever.

I have a hard time letting go of things.

Always have.

From the ephemeral to the more lasting and persistent, truly moving on has never been one of my strong suits.

I tend to fall in love with ideas and people and sometimes the ideas of people, and to commemorate moments after the fact that I could have handled differently but will never, ever get back.

It’s something I’ve been working on getting better at for years, this whole concept of truly letting go. And something I likely have years more work to do to really figure out, I think…


We used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders.

That summer I was working at one of those Taco Bell / Pizza Hut hybrids and I’d tell people (many would of course ask) that I just simply liked to Líve Mas and one way of doing so were continuous attempts to truly Outpizza The Hut — that I liked to be within hands’ reach of a Crunchwrap Supreme and/or personal pan pizza for 40 hours a week, give or take.

They’d generally look at me quizzically with maybe a little bit of worry and then neglect to take the conversation any further, which was kind of why I’d engineered…


She warns me that sometimes she gets car sick.

We’re on our third round of daiquiris, the legit kind, when I confide to Sophie this is my first time ever having legit daiquiris and I now know that I fucking love them — that they are delicious and a great delivery mechanism for alcohol.

Before this evening I’ve only ever had the gaudy frozen kind from trying-too-hard beach bars, and they gave me brain freeze instantly and a hangover before too long. The only reason I ordered my first one that night is because when she showed up half an hour or so late because of work stuff I…


A short story about an atypical initial meeting.

We’re halfway through our second drink when during a brief lull in the conversation she takes a biggish sip from her pint, turns toward me and says, “You know what? I almost didn’t come tonight, to be honest. I feel like we can be honest, right? I thought about doing one of those last-minute cancelations where I tell you something came up with work or I’m not feeling well, whatever, something you can’t call me out on for being untrue because you never know, but that you’re also at least a little bit suspicious of being a lie. …


It would’ve been kind of nice to go through that “Girls have cooties so keep them far away from me and my toys” phase.

The first time I fell in love it was with a girl named Kristin.

I was in kindergarten, the middle of that early stage when you’re completely unaware of the way people you find attractive can and will make you feel for most of the rest of your life.

I had no idea what the hell was going on at first — why I was feeling the things I was feeling, or what I was even supposed to call these emotions. I was all of 6 years old. I knew nothing at all of love beyond what I’d seen in…


“All of this? It’s honestly at this point just not a hill I’m willing to die on.”

“If we’re done here, I’ll give you back some time.”

“The deliverables you were expecting and refused to negotiate on were quite frankly out of scope, no matter how much I initially believed in the promise of this project.”

“When your mom started to provide unsolicited feedback I felt like there were too many cooks in the kitchen. I should have flagged it sooner, I know.”

“I feel like we ramped up so quickly — without either of us being properly onboarded.”

“I was never able to align with your child-bearing timeline. …


During the pandemic, I decided to try something new and posted a poem to Instagram pretty much every day.

During the pandemic, I decided to try something new and posted a poem to my Instagram pretty much every day. Here are a few of them. And here is the first installment.

Stay Put, Please
Why the fuck does the hair
on my head feel a need to
reallocate itself instead to
my back and my chest,
my nose and my ass?
Seems pretty unnecessary.
But sometimes things change
when they were more than fine
the way they were.

Preparation Is Key
A lot can not happen
if you’re not yet ready.

Expired Warranty
I’ve been left to my own devices
for…


Remember that you’re not. Not really.

Sometimes I think that I’m special.

That I’m unique.

It’s not out of the realm of possibility that deep down I think this all the time.(though I’m not sure I’m ready to admit as much, even to myself).

There’s a not-so-small chance that I’ve thought of myself in this way my entire life, give or take or even, likely, without fail.

Especially when things don’t go right — when I feel like I’ve been wronged or am going through some sort of failure big or small or extreme or, probably most often, borderline unremarkable.

I get to thinking that nobody…


…You’re getting really horned up over backsplash.

One day you’re young and wild and the next you’re just trying to wrap up work in time to watch Jeopardy.

One day you’re young and wild and the next you’re like, really, really into air fryers.

One day you’re young and wild and the next you’re trying to figure out how TikTok works.

One day you’re young and wild and the next you’re having “early go-to-bed parties.”

One day you’re young and wild and the next you’re going to the chiropractor because you threw out your back while sneezing.

One day you’re young and wild and the next you’re…

Scott Muska

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