My birthday quite literally lands within the next few days and sadly I find myself yet again curling into the fetal position. And rather than attempting to ward off those fits of panic and dreaded angst, I’ve seemed to have surrendered, permitting them to strike freely with brutal force.
For me my birthday now serves as a crippling reminder; a reminder that another year has been lost and that another year with possibly no hope is imminent.
And rather than devising something incredibly lavish or something wonderfully adventurous to do, I am in panic mode trying to hatch a plan. You see, all those fantastic friends of mine have other plans and will most probably plain forget about my day (much like they did last year). So here I am, pitifully attempting to create some elaborate story to promote seeing how I shan’t be doing much of nothing. I was thinking “going to a day-spa” would be an appropriate ruse to cover up my shame. And ashamed I am. I am also embarrassed and awfully afraid of feeding more “loser” fodder to those who’d like nothing more than to throw me to the wolves.
I truly had faith that this birthday would be different from the previous two; that I wouldn’t be abandoned and forgotten like past years. I had prayed, prayed so earnestly for advancement in life, for something or anything to just manifest before me and give me tangible hope. But here we are again, stressed, anxious and depressed. Also looming, marks one year since my mental break and spiral into anxiety and panic. I fear the increasing stress over the Christmas period, the humiliation of the New Year and now all these birthday blues will be the catalyst that drives me off the edge.
So come Friday, instead of celebrating my birth day in Manhattan with my closest of friends and many cousins, I will be stuck home. And rather than indulging in that glittering Dress The Population dress I’ve had my eye on since September last year, I’ll consider myself fortunate to be wearing denims instead of the more likely scenario of sweats. And on that night I’ll most likely have nothing to drown my sorrows with, considering all I have left is a measly $10 in my bank account.
Though, thankfully I can entertain myself with some Vampire Diaries.