25

The universe and I aren't on speaking terms right now.

She's keeping me here without any explanation or without the tools to figure it out myself.
I guess I'm really angry and don't want to be here.

My twenty-fifth birthday was incredibly emotional. I've put off writing about it for a while now, probably because I wanted to chalk it up to social anxiety and one too many mimosas.
Turns out it was a "gift" from the universe, although she arrived unannounced and without an invitation.

I organized brunch to celebrate my birthday because I wanted an opportunity to see a lot of my friends without having a party at my house that I'd have to clean up afterward or at some cringey bar that would cost me money to drink alcohol that I didn't really like, for a hangover I certainly would regret. Even though I was unable to make a majority of the phone calls to places around town, with the help of Katie and my mom I found a cafe that was nice enough to seat a 15+ group of people on a Sunday morning during their peak business hours. The guys at the cafe were wonderful and when I think about how much work they did to make my birthday great, I still feel a tenderness. They even asked my mom if there was music I would like to listen to and they put it on the system so that we could hear it from the patio. She chose a band that I grew up listening to and in many ways kept me alive. There was one song in particular by this band, that resonated with me and was the cry for help I was unable to articulate.

The baristas, in cahoots with the universe, put that song on blast. I recognized it immediately and gave my mom a look I hoped she would understand. She did and I began to cry.
This song I listened to everyday and was the first song I asked to listen to in the car when I was discharged from the hospital. I still remember sitting in the car with the song ringing in my ears and pounding in my chest. It sounded like freedom and life renewed.

Now over ten years later, among friends and breakfast bagels, I cried for that 14 year-old girl. That young girl who never would have guessed, hell was CONVINCED that she wouldn't be around that long. There were days that girl didn't want to live to see that day, because everyday was filled with pain. Every new day was another twenty-four hours of suffering.
And I cried later when we came back to the house and had mimosas.
And I cried next to the fire, singing to my anthem.
And I cried in private. Then I slept.

I'm still unsure of what do now, or where to go from here. The universe has given me more time, more than I know what to do with or even want. I guess if there were a time to "seize the day", it would be now and for however many days she keeps me here. I'm supposed to be grateful or something, right? Now I have to "live life to the fullest" and make something of myself. She's forced my fucking hand.

So yeah, you could say she and I aren't getting along.
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I'm supposed to feel better
this nightmare is supposed to end
I am holding on,
I am holding on,
I am holding on,

I am holding on