Belated Birthday Post

Odd or significant things always happen around my birthday. I will make a list of 10 things, because lists are great.

  1. 7236280952_b569727cd1_o.jpgI quit my job.
  2. I finally met with my therapist again.
  3. I had meager sex. Sex is always a big deal for me.
  4. I began a relationship with a person. So I’m dating someone? I don’t know.
  5. I realized I still have feelings for my ex.
  6. My ex texted me.
  7. This kid I had a huge crush on finally texted me.
  8. I slept through an exciting event I registered for months ago.
  9. I really, for real bullshitted two essays in ways I haven’t bullshitted essays in ages.
  10. I turned 21.


It was good to meet with my therapist again and it went better than I thought.  have to take better care of myself. I quit my job–perhaps a mutual separation is a better word–and this is a bit of a closing on a part of my life. I really enjoyed that job and I go back and forth on whether I have good justifications for my actions.

This guy…I wrote about him before. We had a terrible date night, I gave him another chance, and I guess things are okay now. However, I’m not sure I want to be in a relationship. In fact, I know that I don’t. Oops. How did it become “official?” I asked “so are we in a relationship?” He replied with “yes.” I said “are you sure?” He replied with “yes.” That was it.

So, I am unsure and I don’t know if I want to do this and I don’t know which action to take would be most fair. I’m not going to end it so soon; I don’t want to make any drastic moves.

Besides, he hasn’t been able to retain an erection, and I feel terribly about it. Of course the first thing a woman’s mind jumps to is “am I ugly? what am I doing wrong?” In reality, he just has some performance anxiety and I just want him to know with all of my heart that I truly am not judging him, am happy just to lay next to him, and I don’t mind waiting and have complete faith it will happen. So then I think, how rude it would be to leave him before we REALLY even have sex? At the same time, how obnoxious of me to think such a thought? What do I believe I will do in such a scenario? He’ll ejaculate, I’ll lean forward, kiss him on the cheek, and say “I don’t think this is working out,” and that’s the end? Certainly not.

No, I don’t know for sure if I want to be in this relationship or if it’s a great thing. My depression hasn’t scared him off yet although he’s aware it exists. I have no desire to make drastic decisions. I’m sure I will have to make some mental choice to stay or not but I will take some time and I want to consider his feelings. Over and over I am told in treatment to be a bit selfish, and that to recover I must be a bit selfish, and that’s okay. I don’t want to be cold hearted though. If he wants it, maybe I should let that influence me more than the doctors insist it shouldn’t.

Because honestly? Much of my reservations lie in the fact that I want to experience more things. Go on dates with guys. Sleep with Aaron again (who I noted, actually texted me!! I thought those hopes were gone in the dust, but half an hour before my birthday, I got a hello message. I was surprised and told him so and it’s probably a bad idea to go out with him but we have so much in common and damn he is beautiful) or have another one night stand, or meet people on Tinder, or actually have a relationship, sexual or non, romantic or not, with a woman, which I crave a lot. In negative terms, I keep thinking that I am here, wanting to leave a good relationship I have barely tested the waters in, just to slut it up.

My new boyfriend (I hate this word for some reason) has the same birthday as me. This is real significance if you believe in cosmic fate. He is of the same religions and nationality. I could pull it off with him in the long run. What if this is the end for me and I don’t experience all those other things? Wouldn’t I regret it? But Young Artist, I say to myself, you’re so freaking young. Why are you thinking so far ahead? Then I get into a spiral that I myself despise.

I didn’t really do anything significant on my birthday, especially not drinking wise. Looking back I feel kind of mad because I missed half off tattoos and free drinks. But I do want to say that it wasn’t a terrible birthday, because I felt remembered and loved byy my family, both biological and non. By friends who sent me such sweet, encouraging text messages and co workers who remembered what I had mentioned weeks ago. When I re-created a Facebook my senior year of high school, I kept my birthday private. I always thought anyone who really cares can text me. That was also a contradiction in my head because a lot of people forget anyway and who really cares about me? No one does. But I did get many messages from people who love me without having had my birthday announced on social networks, and that made me feel so entirely warm and happy inside. I’ve been able to look back at my old self and tell her to stop being so stupid. People do love you. They remember you. It made me feel as though my life is worth living.

My ex even texted me happy birthday. This is huge. It comes only moments after writing my last post about the text I wanted to send him. I assumed I would message him again sometime. I thought I would wait until summer. I haven’t checked his social networks or anything like that (I am so proud of this). I still haven’t even though I had some very, very tempting moments this past week. That was when I realized I still liked and missed him even though I was in a relationship with someone else. This is a painful thought that made me feel like killing myself. How can I ever be in any healthy relationship ever? Bo ruins everything for me. Miles and miles away, he ruins it. And I will never recover.

My train of thought was going in several directions in the past second, Reader. What I am saying is that in these spats, I am always the bigger person. I am always the person who gives in the ‘hello’ first. Sure, this time I didn’t think we would get back together but I still assumed I would message him again in the summertime. A catch up. An apology. It would be me, because he certainly wasn’t thinking of me. But I was wrong. He sent me a happy birthday message. “I’m sorry,” I wanted to scream. What I said wasn’t real. All I want is happiness for you and we will keep our distance but I don’t hate you, I never have, never will, and I’m sorry if I ever hurt you by saying that, I just really hope life is going well and you’re happy.

Instead I said “Thank you, Bo. This really made my morning. Have a good day.” It was a perfect reply. Once again, I am proud of myself.

He said the same for me on my birthday, I reminded him I don’t have great birthdays, and that to remember I am always here for him if he needs anything ever, so my message got across. And he knows. Of course he knows! Who am I to think he ever believed that shit I spout out during a panic attack or to have so little faith that he’d forget I am there for him if he ever needs me, although I know he will never actually take advantage of it. Once again I forget the kind of person he is and I am lucky to have spent the brief time I spent with him and to have had him as my first love. It is painful, very much. There is no doubt I am curious if he is still with that girlfriend but I will not do anything to check. Part of me hopes he’s not and the same part reasonably thinks he’s not, because I don’t have faith that girl could put up with some of his shit or that he could put up with hers, and another part of me wants to be mad at myself for thinking that way and only hopes he’s happy. I know there’s a wonderful woman out there for him.

I feel very much at peace that he sent me that simple happy birthday message. He has no idea how much it means to me and I won’t necessarily be able to tell him that ever but the feeling of graciousness exists and I suppose that’s enough.

Nothing else on that list is worth writing about. I’m equally proud and ashamed of my bullshitted essays. Another story in the books for the grandkids at what a terrible mess of an academic I was.

I can’t believe I made it through another year. It is melancholy. The thought “21 is a good year to die” passes through my head often. But I won’t linger on it. Thanks for sticking through this one with me, Reader.



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