It's less than one week until my 29th birthday. Ouch - that hurts to admit. Less than one week until I am uncomfortably close to 30. It's not so much the number that scares me, but the expectations, the "shoulds" that I (pardon me) should have arrived at by now. It's like a ticking time bomb..tick tick...can't you hear your life running away from you...
"You're a FAILURE" is practically written on my cake. Does she have a boyfriend yet? Is she seeing anybody? WHY NOT?! Wasn't she studying....?
I'm chained to this life that I didn't plan, and I barely recognise the roads I took to get here.
I absolutely should have been born into a British period drama. Austen knew how to sort this shit out.
Am looking for new distraction: study opportunity, mind/body overhaul, new career and holiday destinations. Oh, and possibly considering running away for next birthday.