Hello, it’s me, your sudden onset adult acne. I know things are bad right now, and I’m here to make them even worse by absolutely fucking shit up for you.

Listen, you can’t be happy to see me. This last month has been filled with unprecedented stressful events: COVID continues to spread at alarming rates across the country, unemployment is at an all-time high, and an attempted coup has occurred upon our precious democracy. But you will be comforted to know that I am merely the physical manifestation of your stress over the impending doom humanity currently faces. So really, it’s your fault that I’m here!

Did you drink more coffee than usual? Smoke a cigarette or two? Eat a few pieces of pie or maybe just a whole pie all by yourself? While these are completely normal and valid reactions to stress, they do not fly in my house. You have to take responsibility for your actions and accept your punishment in the form of having a pizza face for an undetermined amount of time.

But in your case, a pizza face would actually be a blessing, a welcome refuge. Because I’m not just a little bump on your nose or a red dot on your otherwise clear cheek. This time, I’m appearing to you in the form of neck acne.

Yeah, you heard right: neck acne.

I’m the worst kind of acne, you see. I sit in the itchiest places: under your chin, behind your ear, along your collar line. I’m out here, exposed, forcing your turtlenecks and other high-collared sweaters out of the back of your closet and into the daily rotation. I make it difficult for you to sleep as I sit next to your ear, pulsating, making you think about what went wrong in your life that you’ve now ended up here.

Are you stressed out at the thought of my presence? Bam! I have now spread to your eyelids, your chest, and your buttcheeks. Think about me even once, and I’m there. I’m everywhere. I’m Beetlejuice 2.0. How do you like me now, motherfucker?

I’m sowing the seeds of turmoil in your relationship, too. Because of my weird locations and human arms essentially being flesh toothpicks, you can’t reach all of my tiny soldiers to pop them or apply toothpaste or any other home remedies you saw on Instagram. Your loving spouse now has the hideous job of having to pop your adult acne for you. Their love for you and commitment to you lessens with each pop. Let me know when the divorce papers arrive, and maybe then I’ll be satisfied with my siege upon your life.

Look on the bright side: at least you have a face mask to cover your hideous face. What a convenient, built-in excuse for no one to ever see you in broad daylight. Except that the majority of me sits right below mask level, with the mask actually drawing attention to your neck because it’s one of your only areas of exposed skin.

Alternatively, is your mask causing the acne itself? But how could it? You switch masks every day! Let that sit and continue to haunt you every time you take off or put on a mask. I’ll be here, waiting and watching. Cheers!