Today my brother jokingly referred to me as invisible. Ironically, I feel like the entire world is scrutinizing me. Every person I enter into a conversation with inquires as to my future plans. I have none, but I lie and create a storyline. I live my life like a book of short stories. Each new story is one written exclusively for some friend or family member; each an exquisite work of fiction.
My birthday is almost upon me. I cry just thinking about it. I was recently reminded of my failures when someone remarked that when they were my age they were married and had already started their family. Thanks. My shortcomings are abysmally clear to me every time I look in the mirror.
No comments:
Post a Comment