So.
It's my birthday today.
40.
Kind of a big one.
Can we look at 39 for a minute, please?
(The birthday, I mean, not the entire year.That's a fiasco I'm in no mood for.)
Depressed for weeks leading up to it.
Depressed at work.
Depressed when Glenn gave me the headphones he bought me for my birthday.
Depressed when I lay in my bedroom with the lights out and sobbed for about an hour or so.
Depressed when trying to figure out what to do.
Depressed when finally deciding on pizza and beer.
Depressed when reflecting on how alone and unloved I felt, especially on my birthday, but pretty much all the time.
Now can we look at 40?
Happy when I got a text at twelve o'clock on the dot last night from my very own Jordan Catalano (information forthcoming. Maybe) because he wanted to be the very first person to wish me a happy birthday.
Ecstatic when I achieved a running goal I've had for the past at least five years (and surprisingly nonplussed when being handed my second place award by the mayor who it was handed to by C's mom).
Happy when--okay, wait.
Stop.
This isn't working.
I can't make a list for this one. For this one, there's no really breaking down the parts, there's only the omnipresent feeling of happiness. Of excitement. Of positivity.
Of a new journey.
Of love--both loving and being loved.
The difference in my life from last year at this time to now is unreal.
All right, before I jinx myself--
enough.
I have a vegan dinner to get to (no wondering what to do with myself this year!); can I just say I love everyone and call it a day?
Or how about this?
A few days ago, I said that if I ran my 5k in under 30 minutes, I'd be so happy, I'd have sex with everyone on the field, and while I didn't end up spending countless hours on my back, the sentiment is still there.
I know I have my own weird logic and way of looking at things, and that statement probably doesn't make the slightest bit of sense to you, but that's how happy I'm finally starting to feel.
It's my birthday today.
40.
Kind of a big one.
Can we look at 39 for a minute, please?
(The birthday, I mean, not the entire year.That's a fiasco I'm in no mood for.)
Depressed for weeks leading up to it.
Depressed at work.
Depressed when Glenn gave me the headphones he bought me for my birthday.
Depressed when I lay in my bedroom with the lights out and sobbed for about an hour or so.
Depressed when trying to figure out what to do.
Depressed when finally deciding on pizza and beer.
Depressed when reflecting on how alone and unloved I felt, especially on my birthday, but pretty much all the time.
Now can we look at 40?
Happy when I got a text at twelve o'clock on the dot last night from my very own Jordan Catalano (information forthcoming. Maybe) because he wanted to be the very first person to wish me a happy birthday.
Ecstatic when I achieved a running goal I've had for the past at least five years (and surprisingly nonplussed when being handed my second place award by the mayor who it was handed to by C's mom).
Happy when--okay, wait.
Stop.
This isn't working.
I can't make a list for this one. For this one, there's no really breaking down the parts, there's only the omnipresent feeling of happiness. Of excitement. Of positivity.
Of a new journey.
Of love--both loving and being loved.
The difference in my life from last year at this time to now is unreal.
All right, before I jinx myself--
enough.
I have a vegan dinner to get to (no wondering what to do with myself this year!); can I just say I love everyone and call it a day?
Or how about this?
A few days ago, I said that if I ran my 5k in under 30 minutes, I'd be so happy, I'd have sex with everyone on the field, and while I didn't end up spending countless hours on my back, the sentiment is still there.
I know I have my own weird logic and way of looking at things, and that statement probably doesn't make the slightest bit of sense to you, but that's how happy I'm finally starting to feel.
No comments:
Post a Comment