Ok. I know this is stupid. But you know what? Fuck it. If I want to whine, I'll damn well whine. I doubt anyone's going to see it, anyway, and if they do, they shouldn't be here reading if they don't want to see me whining.
My birthday is Monday. I will be 28, though in Bunny years, that's 22 because when I hit 25, I started going backwards. I am terrified of getting old. I'm not so much afraid of dying, but of aging...because I'm a vain motherfucker.
If that's shallow, I'm sorry. If it's vapid, I hate it. Tough shit. That's me. I've always been vain, shallow, and narcissistic. I doubt I'm going to change in my old age. The hell with aging gracefully. Old age will have to drag me kicking and screaming.
I've been going gray since I was 15, but that's nothing a little hair dye can't cure. But I noticed a couple of days ago that I'm getting fine lines at the corners of my eyes. And there's nothing that can be done about that. My face has started the inevitable downhill plunge, and I'm powerless to do anything as I watch my youth slip away.
I don't care if I'm being overdramatic. That's how it feels. I'm rapidly hurrying into the autumn of my life, and I'm not happy with it.
I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my 30th birthday will involve me locking myself in the bathroom with a bottle of Jack Daniel's and probably cutting myself in an oh-so-emo manner while I sit in a hot bath and wail over my lost youth.
I feel like I'm losing everything.
The worst thing, though, is that I'm going to be alone on my birthday. I know, it's stupid. But I've never been alone on my birthday. ChaosKitty was going to come, but due to circumstances beyond her control, she won't be able to make it until Tuesday or Wednesday. So, yes, I will spend the whole day alone and bemoaning my sad, sad circumstances.
I'm glad ChaosKitty's coming, though. Really, really glad. I even found out that she's been scheming to buy me A LAPTOP for Christmas because she knows I need one and can't buy one myself. I told her I didn't want her to do that, of course, and that I didn't do all the things I did for her in hopes of getting something in return, anyway. She kept insisting that if she could scrape up the money, she was going to do it. I really hope she doesn't because I'll feel unbelievably guilty if she does.
But you know what? Honestly, just having someone give that much of a shit about me is enough to make me cry. Nobody's ever even *thought* of doing something that awesome for me before to my knowledge. It's...amazing.
But despite that, I'm still depressed as hell about Monday. I feel like it's foreshadowing for the rest of my life--getting old and being alone.
People keep asking me what I want for my birthday and Christmas. I give noncommittal answers because a.) there's really nothing I'm just dying for, and b.) if I can't have what I really want/need, what's the fucking point, anyway?
Honestly? I'd give anything in the world just to hear their voices, to hear them tell me happy birthday. But it'll be a cold day in hell before that happens, so I'll probably just buy a bottle of $3 wine and "celebrate" by drinking all by myself.
*Sigh* I hate my life right now. :(
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