I had not experienced such a smooth birthday in years.
Sometimes I'm angry as fuck... scoffing at the bullshit "HBD" messages others were basically forced into handing me thanks to harassing-ass Facebook.
Sometimes I'm depressed as fuck seeing how someone I held in the highest esteem apparently ignores my birthday.
Sometimes I'm overwhelmed at the thought of responding to so many messages.
Sometimes I'm ecstatic at the simple thought of someone thinking about me for at least five seconds of their day.
It's a mixed bag, and I never know what I'll be feeling.
Last year, I was in absolutely NO position to gamble with my feelings. I knew it was in my complete best interest to pull myself away from the situation all together.
It was so dark, so heavy, so suffocating-- the place I was in exactly a year ago. Breathing was a burden... putting on clothes was often not an option... showering was the stupidest suggestion... thinking ahead AN HOUR was often a task too difficult for me to perform.
I'm in no way trying to be poetic... or whatever it can be interpreted to be... I'm being sincere, truthful, accurate, when I say that I was seeing without really seeing, and hearing without really hearing. It was the ugliest, murkiest, most dangerous fog enveloping my life.
But this year... it's... nice.
I'm not hopeful-- that has since disappeared in my life... "hope."
I'm just at peace with... my place in life.
Last year was the moment I realized that... things suck, things suck for me.
This year has been... a moment to realize that I must keep moving. Staying home and not giving a fuck isn't very fun... it's kind of scary. I've come to terms with the fact that some people are meant to experience wild success, while some of us are here to... not. I also can't complain, because while I may not ever know what certain things feel like, I still have it better than so many people on the planet.
I've come to terms with the missing pieces in my life.
And the clouds are gone.
I saved people who don't give a shit about me the stress of having to ACT like we're cool.
I saved myself the frustration of watching certain people SEE that it's my birthday and not say shit.
I saved myself.
And then the most unexpected flowers showed up today.
Orchids.
And I cried.
People really undervalue simple things... like getting flowers.
When I first me MGH and JC, I was seven... and I was watching over four year old JC as he frolicked through a grassy field... few blossoming flowers in sight. The memory is somewhat hazy now... but it remains there: JC was picking the flowers, and handing them to me.
I hadn't received flowers since then.
I had never received flowers from an actual florist.
I thought back to the days in school... where I'd watch girls receive flowers when getting asked to a school dance, or for their birthday, or for graduation... and act like they weren't shit... and I'd sit back and think how... awesome that must feel like... as fucking lame as it sounds now. Standing there with your lovely bouquet of flowers... that had to feel nice.
Yeah... those flowers really fucked me up. But in a good way.
Happy birthday to me.
Sometimes I'm angry as fuck... scoffing at the bullshit "HBD" messages others were basically forced into handing me thanks to harassing-ass Facebook.
Sometimes I'm depressed as fuck seeing how someone I held in the highest esteem apparently ignores my birthday.
Sometimes I'm overwhelmed at the thought of responding to so many messages.
Sometimes I'm ecstatic at the simple thought of someone thinking about me for at least five seconds of their day.
It's a mixed bag, and I never know what I'll be feeling.
Last year, I was in absolutely NO position to gamble with my feelings. I knew it was in my complete best interest to pull myself away from the situation all together.
It was so dark, so heavy, so suffocating-- the place I was in exactly a year ago. Breathing was a burden... putting on clothes was often not an option... showering was the stupidest suggestion... thinking ahead AN HOUR was often a task too difficult for me to perform.
I'm in no way trying to be poetic... or whatever it can be interpreted to be... I'm being sincere, truthful, accurate, when I say that I was seeing without really seeing, and hearing without really hearing. It was the ugliest, murkiest, most dangerous fog enveloping my life.
But this year... it's... nice.
I'm not hopeful-- that has since disappeared in my life... "hope."
I'm just at peace with... my place in life.
Last year was the moment I realized that... things suck, things suck for me.
This year has been... a moment to realize that I must keep moving. Staying home and not giving a fuck isn't very fun... it's kind of scary. I've come to terms with the fact that some people are meant to experience wild success, while some of us are here to... not. I also can't complain, because while I may not ever know what certain things feel like, I still have it better than so many people on the planet.
I've come to terms with the missing pieces in my life.
And the clouds are gone.
I saved people who don't give a shit about me the stress of having to ACT like we're cool.
I saved myself the frustration of watching certain people SEE that it's my birthday and not say shit.
I saved myself.
And then the most unexpected flowers showed up today.
Orchids.
And I cried.
People really undervalue simple things... like getting flowers.
When I first me MGH and JC, I was seven... and I was watching over four year old JC as he frolicked through a grassy field... few blossoming flowers in sight. The memory is somewhat hazy now... but it remains there: JC was picking the flowers, and handing them to me.
I hadn't received flowers since then.
I had never received flowers from an actual florist.
I thought back to the days in school... where I'd watch girls receive flowers when getting asked to a school dance, or for their birthday, or for graduation... and act like they weren't shit... and I'd sit back and think how... awesome that must feel like... as fucking lame as it sounds now. Standing there with your lovely bouquet of flowers... that had to feel nice.
Yeah... those flowers really fucked me up. But in a good way.
Happy birthday to me.
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