Another year older should be something that I celebrate and shout from the mountain tops that I’m thirty one today. That is not happening, instead I am stuck with the nagging thought of if I even deserve to age another year. What accomplishments from a year ago can I bring into this year, and say I have grown since previous years? My hands are empty as I go into this new year, and now that I’m over the threshold of thirties my loneliness is the only consistent relationship I have in my life. 

Reaching thirty plus years on this planet and not being able to connect with people is a whole issue in itself. By thirty you are supposed to be set with a good healthy friendship, or a few good friendships. I look at my life and realize I haven’t sustained any of that and the skills to rectify the issue escapes me like a rabbit being chased by sloth. Oh on top of lacking the ability to connect with others I have trust issues that have followed me since I was a child.  You roll all that up and bake it, and I am left with the view of a future where I die on a Tuesday of natural causes and discovered on a Friday.

Let’s talk about my love life for a little bit while I have your attention. Okay conversation over that’s all you need to know of it. If you haven’t noticed by the third sentence, my love life is a nonexistent entity. Shit if I’m really being honest I don’t even love myself, so loving someone else is definitely a task that is out of my pay range.

Years before I used to be excited to see my Facebook notifications blow up with everyone saying happy birthday, as I prepare my mind for an exciting weekend down Temple. I have to be honest those days I was really too drunk to realize how much I hated my life outside those club walls. Now I’m living and the realization of how I truly feel every year around this time, and unfortunately getting used to that is taking longer than I thought so I shall endure.

“Happy” birthday to me…