I would get soo excited.
Make big plans. Days before leading to my birthday and even after my birthday.
Go on a trip. Or go to Disneyland. Go to concerts. Have family parties.
Stay up until midnight.
I would have high hopes.
Then get disappointed.
I was watching a video I MADE FOR MYSELF 5 years ago for my 25th birthday.
And I didn’t think about good memories.
I thought about how happy I was despite all the pain from depression.
And how a majority of the pictures included close friends and cousins that I would see all the time.
And it breaks my heart knowing that we’re not close anymore…like in those photos.
I’m not going to spend my birthday with them this year.
& of course, I kept on thinking “what’s wrong with me?” why aren’t we close anymore.
(as I’m typing this, I’m crying and feel like I can’t breathe)
So. I don’t really care anymore. About birthdays.
After this one. Year 30. I don’t care.
I already planned a weekend getaway months ago. Because I was stressed from my old job, anxious about waiting for my current job to call. It was a stressful, exhausting time. So I planned a trip for my birthday (not knowing of course that I would have a week off of work before my birthday at my current job).
More thoughts tomorrow.
On my last day of my 20s.