it’s my party and i’ll cry if i want to.

by dorarandom

well. it’s my birthday. i’m 32. i’m depressed about this one. and i’m going to indulge myself here. misery ahoy….

most of my friends are older than i am and they’re laughing at me.

a few weeks ago my Very Dear Friend said: ‘can you believe we’ve known each other for ten years?’ ‘yes. i can believe it. i’m almost 32. can you believe that? i feel so old.’ ‘that is not old. that’s young. in another ten years…i’ll tell you you’re old.’ (this might not sound sweet, but it was. or i took it that way, in any case.)

he’s fifteen years older than i am—and i guess i was 21 when we met. in sanskrit class. and i was like this red-hot little ball of brilliance and promise. (though i did not feel that way. i was miserable: i was still three-quarters child, had no ability to take care of myself, didn’t have even the most rudimentary life skills, and i was just starting to figure out that there was something wrong with me physically—something i wasn’t growing out of, but something no one could explain.) but i was brilliant, i’ll give you that! i think it almost made me manic at times. i used to ask VDF to marry me a lot. he always politely declined.

i think that’s the thing about turning 32 (sans career) when you graduated from college at 19—it’s like, well, so most of my life has just been a waste, then. in terms of upward mobility. self-actualization. the personal fable. etc. i let myself be depressed for years. i let other people ruin what could have been a brilliant career. (cue belle and sebastian). (and my musical tastes are outdated—hey, i’m dating myself!) i’m a weird old burnout. too weird to even be a cautionary tale.

on some level i think that Tread-Lightly didn’t want me because i’m not in the professional class. i think i’ve written about that before. i think it’s probably good that i’m going to see my therapist today! insert smiley emoticon here.

i certainly wouldn’t mind having a career again! but any aim i impose on myself is necessarily arbitrary. there isn’t any one i particularly want. all i want is to hold someone and love them—to be held and loved. to have the promise of a life in partnership. but i might just have to impose an aim on myself because i can’t see turning 33 without one. (i’ve been telling people that i want to be some kind of therapist myself—this is sort of a lie. it’s a career i feel like i should have because i have an incredible talent for empathy and for actively caring-about-others. and i guess it would be satisfying. obviously it would be satisfying. but i’m wary of shoulds.)

trying to find a bright side today….i don’t have chlamydia anymore. (last week’s lab results were negative.) that’s a pretty good present.

also i am going to scotland in a few days! how can i keep forgetting that. i know it will be great. forbiddingly beautiful in november.

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