Hello world!
If you're a bit confused now and my name does not ring any bell then our love was never meant to be.
Really. How could you have forgotten about me already?
Anyway, it's my birthday, and there is no time more pressing (or rather depressing) to make up a balance of your life so far.
Here are the facts of
dailanche her 29 years spent on Planet Earth:
- alive: yes
- sex: more than once
- location: still haven't moved out of parents house
- carreer: murdering to social life
- social life: intimate relationships through intimate actions with keyboard
- Fornication Under Consent of the King: resulted in 1 little brat
- contribution to society: I pay my taxes
- contribution to the greater good: I'm saving this one for when I'm turning 40
ENDSCORE: let's get shitfaced
I may be laughing but the joke is rather bitter.
On days like today, when I feel like a useless filler of valuable space, I wish I were religious. At least, then I could argue, raise a fist, raise a voice, get mad at someone at least!
But now, the only person I can get mad at is myself and it's one of my personal policies to never do something that is not beneficial to my happiness. Quid pro quo.
Ah, it's turning into a rather dramatic and theatrical post already and I really hope that next year, when I'll be writing my sob-story about tunring 30 no doubt, that I can look back to this post and laugh with my silly self.
But yes, all this blahblahblah, because it's 1.45 in the morning and I'm still awake and feeling a bit nostalgic and quite a bit melancholic.
The night is dark and the sounds are oddly mingling with the tapping on my keyboard and I hardly think that there isn't a more fitting moment then right now to make a toast to myself.
<raises an imaginary glass of champagne to my imaginary self>
"Glad to see you're still with us and remember, it ain't over until the fat lady sings. Cheers!"