Happy Birthday to me
Monday, September 28, 2009
42: Concentrating on falling apart
I'm going to be 25 in eleven days. One would think that by twenty five , the average american male would have a steady well paying job, and place of his own, some kind of significant other, or large social circle, the ability to pay his bills on time, and a healthy mental state. What do I have to show for my age? I still live at home, I work in a local cafe which is starting to lose its appeal, I am single, have the worst brain in the history of brains and do nothing but think of what could have been if I had only thrown caution to the wind and jumped into the fire of uncertainty. Sure I would have missed people places and familiarity, but at least I wouldn't have to be going through this. I wouldn't have to cry because I walked into my room, or new pictures, or early morning text messages. It's so hard to shake you. I'm so afraid I'm going to feel like this forever, I'm just plain afraid. I wish I could be angry, I wish I didn't have to miss you, I wish I wasn't still hopelessly in love with you, I wish I left with you that day, I wish I wasn't full of regret every fucking day. I wish I could get my head on straight.