A young woman stopped by the YBD pop-up shop recently and laughed when she read the text on this card out loud. To which I responded… maybe! I mean, it’s been true in my own experience. But if you’re still stuck on your narcissistic ex, you probably won’t see the lovely, caring guy right in front of you.

It seems like everybody has some form of depression or anxiety these days. Even absent a mental health issue, life can be full of problems and responsibilities we dread. In which case, it’s time to throw caution to the wind and hitch your sails to the most reckless friend you have. Like the one who wears Hawaiian shirts in February. The one who’s got the speedboat.

Sometimes people take I’ll pray for you as a diss, but I really do mean it sincerely. I want the absolute best for you, baby. I’ll pray for your continued success at work. For your daughter to make you proud. I hope your baby mama settled down, and you enjoy daily serenity and peace of mind. Because maybe if you could truly feel good about yourself, you’d want to share that good with someone else, someday.

Yeah, I get it. I wasn’t patient. I wasn’t kind. I abandoned you. I even blocked you, when I couldn’t face you. But is that really any reason to want me out of your life forever? Because I’ve changed. Come see for yourself.

Is it weird that I still think about you every day, three years after we broke up? Is it strange that I still look for you, around the corner of every aisle at Costco? Is there anything wrong with considering you to be my primary romantic muse? Oh, okay. Never mind… I was just asking for a friend.

Rejection is the worst. Your first reaction is probably like, what’s wrong with me that he/she/they rejected me? But I would urge you to do a few things before you give up on life. Step 1: apply an ice pack, like you would to any other swollen or inflamed part of the body. Step 2: get a hobby you can devote thousands of hours into, to forget about the rejection. Step 3: find an inanimate object to “reject,” so you can pretend like the score is settled. We all good now?

Denying yourself takes many forms. It could mean that you don’t acknowledge how you really feel about things. It could mean you hold yourself back from enjoying life’s simple pleasures. But it usually means that your inner monologue is full of self-doubt. Sad, right? It doesn’t have to be that way.

Lots of people complain about not having enough time in the day. Well, I’ll tell you a really straightforward way to streamline your schedule: give up on love entirely. No more odious “communication” required. No more time sucked into visiting in-laws, or going to see movies you wouldn’t have chosen yourself. Plus, you can relax your hygiene routine.

If you’re anything like me, your mind should come with a Hazmat suit and enough danger warnings to populate a Superfund site. Not that the warnings would be all that necessary; my paranoia and distorted thinking are like wall-to-wall barbed-wire fencing, preventing anyone new from getting in, anyway. What a shame about all the poor souls who are still stuck in there… my bad!

In theory, you could send this postcard to literally anyone. That is, if you believe (as YBD does) that we all have a heart of gold, buried beneath our layers of deep resentment, protective defense mechanisms, and the phony old masks we wear for the sake of trying to get people to “believe” we are “good” in the “right” ways. Strip that shit away, and you’ll find peace of mind to spare. Simple!

Everybody who’s anybody has seen Fight Club, but you’d be amazed at how many moviegoers completely missed the point. It wasn’t Brad Pitt’s washboard abs, and it wasn’t Edward Norton’s hopelessly deadpan delivery of lines like I am Jack’s raging bile duct. No, the point of Fight Club came down to this line, and this line alone. #truth

It’s funny that most people remember Brad Pitt being the hottest part of Fight Club, because I would beg to differ. Edward Norton’s character (AKA “the narrator”) is at his most fantastically attractive when he lets himself be vulnerable enough to admit heartbreak. A black eye and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth complete the look.

Part of me doesn’t want to say anything about this card at all. Please, figure it out as you will. And I hope you enjoy every minute.

You know where repression works well? Church. And, board rooms. Nobody wants to get emotional while they’re pretending to resonate with the supposedly inspirational words of some two-bit hypocrite up on the pulpit, or when a $2 million deal is on the line, and you’re just trying to give your investors your best ball-point pen without your hands shaking too much. Otherwise, please don’t repress yourself; it’s bad for your digestion. (And, your complexion.)

Here’s a card that’s “ripped from the headlines” of my love life. Or is it yours? At any rate, feeling terminally frustrated is not a good look on anyone. So maybe a hard reset on that stale-ass relationship is just what the (love) doctor ordered.

Don’t you just love how your ex tries to front like he didn’t do anything wrong to bust up the relationship? Like seriously, it’s all my fault? You have got to be fucking kidding me, bro. That’s why this postcard comes with a heavy side of sarcasm, extra salt. And some vinegar, for good measure. BRO…