happy birthday to me

A desperate plea – masquerading as a simple sentence  – weighs heavy in my book of words:

"I hope my life gets fixed before my 35th birthday."

...

As a person desperately in love with words, it kills me to say that they fail me now. I don't want to sound like a fucking cliche. I want the words to do justice but life has finally stumped me into tongue-tied-ness.

...

That whole life fixing thing didn't at all comply with my self-imposed deadline. But I'm sitting here just one year later – on the precipice of 36 [!] –  and I can safely say it: Life got fixed.

Only not how I imagined it.

Like a thousand times better than what I wished for in my version of "fixed."

...

It's hard to know how broken things really are when you don't even have a concept of what un-broken is.

I don't think I ever knew what real happiness felt like. But I do now.

And I am: Happy.