At thirty two years of age we would think that I would be grown up. That I would know what the hell this life has in store for me. Its amazing, opportunites are here staring in my face and I don’t know where to turn. I still lack the drive and determination I should have, but I am growing as a person. This break-up taught me so much. About looking inside myself. Into peering deep into my soul and taking a real hard look at myself.
Those drunken stupors wasn’t helping anyone. Falling head first into a bottle didn’t solve the mystery of why I was so miserable. It was being too comfortable. Being just satisfied just enough to deal with life and just exist. I am worth so much more than that. We all are.
I want a slow dance. I want a real first kiss. I look at the faults of my ex-boyfriend and reflect back at my own faults. I pretended. I pretended that friendship was all you need. It may be all you need in your twilight years, but not when you’re a hot young woman in her 30’s. This is when I should be living. Instead I was living a slow death.
Time to live. Time to be alive.