Untitled Public Service Announcement

May 30, 2025

To whom it may concern,

To Ms. Ferguson,

To her.

To you,

To me,

I don't know how formal or informal this should be. I've done a resignation letter twice. Both times I was bitter yet restrained. I tried to be respectfully disrespectful. I was calculated and careful with my word choice. Desperation was my motivation for both resignation letters. Though the forces driving each period of desperation were so drastically different. Financial stagnancy vs emotional exhaustion. No chance for lateral movement vs being paralyzed by grief and failure.

This isn't about those other non-profits. I mean, you're already aware of the weight of those positions. You've tolled over them ad nauseum. I've tolled over them. I haven't settled on whether this will be first person or if I'm going to refer to myself like The Rock cutting a promo. That would be talking about myself in third person. I am aware that I was talking about myself in second person.

This is what I'm resigning from.

Making a choice and then needing to explain said choice. I think the reader could've would've gone along with The Rock simile. I was proud of the aforementioned simile but I didn't want anyone to think I didn't know that The Rock would talk about himself in third person not second person.

I am literally crying typing this because... I don't know why.

I know why.

I am crying because I don't want anyone to read this and I don't want to write this. But alas, I am typing this woe is me resignation letter at 2:40 a.m. regardless of my dad's has an appointment later today and the looming pressure of presenting myself as a functioning adult.

Probably because I missed the opportunity to write something new for the Tattoo This Line challenge. My first tattoo was literally a quote of my own. A prophecy I inked on myself as a declaration to that 18 year old and whoever happened upon her arm. "My last words will be a poem the world will recite". I couldn't or better yet didn't write a poem with a line that kind of writes the poem for itself. My next tattoo is going to be "Destiny is all" a running line and theme from a fire show The Last Kingdom. That poem would've been fire. So I'm torturing myself with this shit because I want to complete something and not just have another idea that I let wither.

I read the prompt and thought nearly immediately I Resign From Myself. From the Tilt a Whirl of Jada. From the crying over the same things and doing nothing about it. From being miserable, smiling till I'm not, and easing right back into misery.

What exhausts me the most? What is the most toxic entity in my life? All that shit in the bullet points and everything my mind has blacked out for my own protection.

Who has wronged me the most? Who is the recurring entry in my Burn Book? You guessed it. Lovable Old Jada. I'm the monster at the end of the book.

I honestly thought this piece would be funny.

It sort of is. To me, anyway. I'm not crying anymore and that's something. I have no intention of re-reading this. If it has grammatical errors, fuck it. Professionalism isn't mandatory for this letter.

I mainly wanted to say, Jada you've been working on yourself for 30 years now. I may have expected perfection but I lowered my qualifications. I settled for growth. And listen, you're not the worst.

Oh shit, she's starting with the waterworks again.

I actually like a lot of things about you. I just need a break. A bit of a hiatus. You are nearing a ton and jolting my nervous system in/out of commission.

How do I do this, though? Can I choose to put the parts of myself that I hate on pause? What happens if I stop doing "the work" on myself? That's what this letter was supposed to be. A cease and desist to all the suffocating stuff.

As of 3:08 a.m. (I went to P.S./I.S. 308 from K-8th grade). That's got to mean something that when I'm bringing this thing home, I look at the clock and it's that time.

Well now, as of 3:09 a.m., I feel lighter. Better than I remember feeling after the other resignation letters. So kudos to me. I accept my resignation letter, from me to me, and I am going to fucking sleep.