I turned 31 in front of an ice cream shop in the East Village. Britt wanted to make sure she was with me past midnight, Jun was there funding my entire evening and Ryan lifted my ass up (literally) like I had just made the go-ahead home run when the clock struck 12. So I took it all in, the greetings from random strangers, the beautiful evening and the fact that I was celebrating in NYC. No Instagram photo will ever capture that kind of moment.
My favorite group text includes Mark, Rob and Abby. They are my bullies who haze me, my worst influences and team peer pressure. If I’m walking down the street and check my phone with a stupid grin on my face its because of them. We have plans for a party cruise in November, NYE plans in Vegas and we’re also Coachella ticket holders. I cannot wait to move back home, particularly to be reunited with them, all the time. It’s going to be a fucking disaster and I look forward to it. Ohh. The part about me moving home? Blog to come… wait for it.
Ex-Mr sends me photos and videos of his baby girl while chatting. He sends more and more, cause I request them. I always smile because she looks like him and he does dumb shit like put her in cardboard boxes. “You would though. You really would.” I am genuinely happy for him, no malice. He always tells me how proud he is of me. How I “fuckin’ did it” and how I made it in New York City. And when I doubt my solo time will never end he tells me someone will come along, someone better than he ever was to me. “Just be patient and just keep doing you, he’ll come around when its time.” Friends with my ex? That's an understatement. You don't have to understand it, as long as we do.
I went away for two weeks only to return to hear how much I was missed. All around. God, you make a girl feel amazing. I was honestly super depressed at the fact that no one (as in single entity) was waiting at home for me. Turns out… everyone was waiting. *Heart emoticons x infinity*
My life is a little bumpy at times. Occasionally I experience a perfect storm in which PMS, transitional changes, slight heartache and homesickness all coincide and I can’t think of a single thing to look forward to. I’m always a hot mess at least 2 days out of every month, but I bounce back. I'm not one dwell on negativity too long and the people in my life are constant reminders that I am fortunate as fuck, despite my crazy story.
Thank you for the love.