Is my birthday. I’m considering a move. A job change. A life change. I’m a love addict. I’m wanting a fresh start. Just a do-over.
I’m sitting in a restaurant analyzing the freshness of their produce because my company supplies it. My God, I’m old.
I realize friends ask if you made it home safely. So does family.
I realize I also seem flighty, bipolar, weird. I am.
But I’m human and it’s taken me awhile to be okay with this.
I’m sitting in a restaurant still hungry and all alone.
I guess it’s time I admit I’m not as pretty as I believed I was, am. I’m not that attractive. I’m not worth walking up to. I’m not worth talking to, getting to know…
Now you know why people commit suicide. I’ve known.