I'll be thirty years old in four days. At 2pm Wednesday, to be exact.
I have no big plans except maybe, if I'm feeling up to it, to have a few friends over later on in the week.
I keep telling myself: the less I think about this one, the better.
But, maybe we'll be going uphill from hereon out. I mean, how much sicker can one person get in her thirties if she's already had it all in her twenties? In the past ten years I've been diagnosed with everything from PTSD and depression, to acid reflux and carpal tunnel syndrome, to skin and breast cancer.
I think things can only get better from here.