A Letter From Sarah To Sarah

To the person who has come into possession of my body,

My name is Sarah MacPhail.

If you are reading this, it means that I am suffering from amnesia as a result of emotional stress, head trauma, or alien technology. I have been likely working in a sweat shop or with the IRA (because as a result of the amnesia I’ve lost all sense of my personal morality) or at a Burger King. You may have found me in Ireland or one of Ireland’s neighbouring countries. But you should know that I do not belong here, and while I don’t remember who I am, this letter has been crafted to remind me how to get home in the eventuality that I’m suffering from this foreseeable bout of amnesia.

While it’s hard to know what amnesia-Sarah will be like, it’s important that we both know who the real Sarah is. I am actually Canadian and Baptist. I have a Bachelor of Public Relations from Mount St. Vincent University and am taking my Masters in International Relations at Dalhousie. I have lived all over the Maritimes including Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia. My roommate’s name is Bethany and I am currently living in Halifax, NS (Sometimes we’re referred to as S’Mac and Cheese). My best friend is named Jeff deViller. I guess Becky Ackerman also ranks on that list… just lower than Jeff. And I mean, there are other people too, but I have amnesia and I shouldn’t have to remember everyone right away.

If reading this letter has not brought me back to my normal senses, just talk about Jesus, dress me in retro clothing, and play a Whitney Houston CD and I should be fine.

While I am in your care, please do not let me:

– Get a tattoo (Unless, of course, if it includes Jeff’s name and/or a reference to Jesus)

– Watch anything on HBO (It’s Gilmore Girls, West Wing, or the highway for me!)

– Dance the macarena (I am an excellent dancer and will not lower myself to that simplistic dance… I mean: I got the moves like Jagger!)

– Be pessimistic (Just because you don’t remember where you came from, doesn’t mean you can’t have a good time!)

– Kiss any boys (Seventy-two is enough!!!)

That should just about cover it. If none of this works, please seal me in a crate (air holes please!) with a self address, stamped envelope and send me to one of the following addresses. They’ll send back postage.

Go with Jesus,

Sarah Jane

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