My birthday was a couple of days ago. It was a pretty uneventful affair. I’ve hated birthdays since turning 24. Most folks forgot or didn’t bother to acknowledge it.
I’m 33 now if anyone is interested.
I’m probably going to die alone. Between work, school, housekeeping, being a single mom, pet care, cooking, and appointments…I spend most of my time on the verge of tears because it’s all just too much. And there’s no relief in sight.
I try and participate on dating apps. But the reality is, I don’t have the time. People expect me to have the ability to text with them 24/7. And I’m lucky if I can spare 10 minutes a day. Men want someone that can drop everything and go grab a coffee with them. That’s not me. And again, I anticipate no changes in the near future.
Throw in my complicated past…and it’s just hopeless. People who know about my previous career fall into two categories. Those who are impressed by it and want me for all the wrong reasons. And those who think I’m a whore and would never settle down with me.
My looks are fading fast. The lines on my face are increasing at a dramatic speed. My body is getting soft from my new desk job. I choose not to spend much money on cosmetics or other items that would help to enhance my appearance. I’m starting to look as rough as my history is.
I’m just feeling overwhelmed and lonely this night. Sending love out to anyone else who may be in the same boat.