tick tock
I find it quite comical that 30 has magically become the age where I am constantly reminded how I still don’t have kids, or a man, or a home in my name. The audacity of me to actually try to live a life where I am genuinely happy, respected and loved. No, I should instead actively pursue some irrational ass timeline in order to appear happy for the people who don’t even tell me happy birthday. Nevermind that I actually really like my life as is, well most of the time, when I’m not dripping in anxiety and second guessing my decisions. I’m for the most part, content, until that clock gets thrown at my head full speed. Then, once again I am mindful how inadequate I really am for the amount of time that I’ve existed. Being that someone’s daughter is three kids in and posting long soliloquy’s about the joys of being a wife. Meanwhile, I just figured out what aisle organic stuffed ravioli is located. For those who don’t know, they store it with the fancy cheese. tick tock bitch.
Indigo 