Every time I tell people I'm dying for this year to get over, they look at me as if I'm saying, "God, I'm like dying for that volcano to like burst already!". They remind me that the first three months of the year to come are going to be worse than all the months of this year put together. "5 months", I correct them. But you know what? I don't care. Cause I'm ready to get it over with. I'd pick quick death over slow and painful torture.
I've been watching Grey's Anatomy all over again. That show is my tranquillizer. After a long, harrowing day, it's blissful to loose myself in the troubles of Meredith Grey. I mean, I love her. She gets dumped and she still manages to hold it together and continue her day at work (Obviously though she has a backlog of unresolved issues that turn her into this freaky, damaged person, but meh, it has to come out one way or the other. And I like her way better.).
I'm more like that now. The first time I watched the show, I was a total Izzie. I had to be everything to my best friend, I had to be included in everything that was going between everyone, I was an over-emotional and cry-on-the-bathroom-floor kind of person.
Now I'm a Meredith, I'm messed up in the head but I'm more-or-less not letting it spillover into my life. I care about people, but I don't run after them. I don't get hurt as easily (there are a few exceptions). I'm nice without being a pushover. My coping strategy is avoidance. I have abandonment issues and I'm scared of letting people in too much. I shove people away when they get too intimate. I'm detached, in a polite way.
Or maybe, I'm just indulging too much in euphemisms.
Also, my birthday is coming. I'm doing this whole thing where I'm not expecting presents and shopping for myself on my birthday.
I mean, who else could buy you a perfect birthday gift but you, right?
Hopefully, this birthday won't be such a fail.
