This is what self-editing looks like.

Have a nice weekend, control yourselves.

This week, I went to my doctor’s office to finish a series of tests. At the end of the appointment, he came back into the room and said, “I just have to ask, why did you decide to come back now?” The last time I was in the office was a year ago and I’ve stared at the bottle of of steroids they gave me every day for a year, I never even read the label. The answer was that I’m trying to get my life together.

I’ve started going to the Upper East Side once a week to sit in a buttery Eames chair and speak to a therapist about myself. I stopped taking the Wellbutrin I prescribed to myself in ten minutes on Hers.com. I have come to realize some risky behaviors of mine, and I haven’t gotten rid of them but I have a better understanding of what role they play in my life. I cleaned out a drawer next to my bed that I hadn’t opened in two years because I was scared of the ghosts inside of it, but I didn’t even have to look — I just grabbed all the papers and put them into the recycling. I got an accountant, and I haven’t been the best at answering his emails but I’m trying. I haven’t worked out in three weeks, but I have a plan for how I’m going to solve that. I stopped randomly taking edibles throughout the week, and I haven’t been hungover in a long time. The worst thing for this letter is a hangover. I’ve cut back on energy drinks, and going to dinners I don’t want to fake-smile through and I’m trying to answer all my emails. And I think Feed Me has turned into a pretty good publication — I’m constantly figuring out how to improve it.

This is where I tell you I had a much longer version of this letter written this morning, which felt good to write, and felt just as good to delete.

I’m recently grateful that I’ve worked really hard on making this whole thing about the news and storytelling, and not me. I like having parts of my life be private. I don’t mind telling you about myself, but I don’t want you to see my house and I’m sure never going to tell you my weaknesses. Maybe one day I’ll turn on some personal levers and see some sort of outrageous ego or monetary return but for now it feels good to build a media business that is going to change a lot over the next few months. This is my sentimental birthday letter, the last Feed Me authored by my 29-year-old self. Thank you for reading.

Have a nice weekend, I’ll see you next week.