So today I turned 33 years of age.
How's it different to 32? It isn't. Not for the age, anyway. Life is better - significantly objectively better. I'm feeling slightly better, slightly less ill. I'm feeling a lot happier and more confident at work. A lot more settled in my own head too. My ulcer has healed, though my lungs aren't up to much. Life is just working out better for me.
Will I be able to say the same again a year from now, Bastille Day 2016? Who knows.
What I do know is that there are people in my life - some that I talk to literally every day, some that I barely talk to more than once a month, everything in between - that have made life a happy thing. Sometimes it feels like ice-skating up hill, but with friends like these I can climb mountains.
I think you all know who you are. I hope you do. If you're at all curious, just ask, I'm pretty honest.
If we talk every day: Thanks for being tolerant of my short temper, my weird thought process and my general lack of physical ability.
If we don't talk too often at all: Thanks for understanding, and for not being mad at me.
The political landscape right now is a little rocky; but it all comes down to how we ride the storm, not how long the weather stays sunny. So this year is for the living.
More tattoos. More travel. Catching up with people that I haven't seen in TOO DAMN LONG. Getting shit together, making life better.
I've already got the liberte, and I'm working on the equalite. Let's have some fraternite.
...and fuck it, let's make a straw promise of a blog every week.
...wait wait wait no I didn't NO WAIT STOP -
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