Sally Draper, the newest woman of “Mad Men.” (Frank Ockenfels/AMC)

It’s me, Sally Draper.

God, THE most embarrassing thing happened to me today, worse than that time when my mom made me see a psychiatrist after I touched myself at Laura’s slumber party and even worse than that gross thing I saw Mr. Sterling do at that banquet a few months ago.

I got my period. Wait, God, it gets even more horrible (as if you didn’t already know). I got it while Glen and I were at the Museum of Natural History. After months of talking on the phone, Glen finally comes to visit me and I finally get to wear my go-go boots and then this happens. God, why are you so cruel? And why did you add insult to injury by making Glen have that mustache, which makes him look like one of those guys who sells hot dogs in the city?

Anyway, I couldn’t tell him what had happened, so as soon as I got out of the bathroom, I just ran outside, got a cab and went straight home even though I knew it would cost, like, a million dollars. My mom was really nice to me. She even gave me a hot water bottle and laid down with me even though a few days earlier, she specifically said that she wanted to lock me in a trunk and also, potentially, strangle me for not going on her dumb skiing trip. She’s weird. She’d freak out if she knew I was with Glen, so hopefully Daddy and Megan won’t tell her.

Life just seems really unfair to me right now, God. Really unfair.

At this point, I should probably mention that I’m omniscient. That will explain how I know about that horrible thing that happened to my dad’s co-worker, Lane Pryce.

Why am I talking to you if I’m omniscient? Good question, God.

I’m more of an all-seeing type of omniscient than an all-knowing type. As a supreme being who is way older than I am, I figure you know a lot more than I do. So that’s why I’m talking to you. There’s only one other entity who may understand more about what happens in the universe than you do. I believe his name is Matthew Weiner.

Anyway, back to Mr. Pryce. They found him hanged in his office. He committed suicide. People die at my dad’s office a lot. A couple of years ago, one of his secretaries just keeled over at her desk. Everyone tried to hide it from me, but that was silly. Because Sally Draper is omniscient.

Mr. Pryce’s situation seems sadder to me because it was preventable. He chose to take his own life. And why? Because Daddy insisted that he resign over an $8,000 check. I guess my dad is right about the fact that what Mr. Pryce did was bad. It’s wrong to take money from your company without telling them, and it’s really bad to sign your name as if you are someone you are not.

But it’s not like my dad hasn’t pretended to be other people and managed to continue having a successful career. (He thinks I don’t fully understand the Dick Whitman situation. But he is mistaken once again because . . . omniscient.)

“I’ve started over a lot, Lane,” my dad told Mr. Pryce. “This is the worst part.”

But my dad didn’t see that Mr. Pryce just isn’t the type of person who can start over fresh. “He seems so honest,” Megan told my dad. (I heard that not because of my omniscience, but because I was eavesdropping on the other side of the door.)

He was an honest person because he was who he was without pretending to be someone else. He did stupid things and he had flaws, but he was not a fake. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t very good at advertising.

If Daddy had listened more closely to Mr. Pryce, he might have figured that out about him. But that’s the problem. He didn’t listen. Adults don’t listen most of the time: They forget to tell their new wives that certain daughters are coming to stay with them, or they don’t comprehend how much their old husbands really love them, or they don’t realize that their relentless abuse of loyal employees might make those employees leave, or they don’t hear the full story of how company decisions are made and wind up sleeping with gross car dealer guys because of it. (Yep. Know about that, too.)

It’s hard to trust anything in this world, God. Things are always changing so fast. I don’t want to become a woman. As my mom said, that involves a lot of responsibility. And I’m not sure if I am ready for that.

Responsibility means doing the right thing and looking out for other people and trying to be a good human being, every day. I don’t see a lot of people doing that. So how am I supposed to be responsible if I have no good examples to follow?

Even the one guy in my dad’s office who I thought seemed pretty nice — what’s his name, Ken Cosgrove? — he’ll play a little bit dirty if he really has to. Everyone just wants to get what they want. It’s depressing.

Can’t everyone see that happiness is just a moment before you need more happiness? Some smart man once said that, but I can’t remember who.

Anyway, God, I should probably go. I’m sad and starting to feel crampy and my mom’s knocking on the door, asking if she can come in and cuddle again. Geez, she hugs me instead of locking me in a trunk and suddenly she’s mother of the year.

Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow. Happiness is just a moment. But if that’s true, that means sadness is, too. Right?

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