Yes today is my birthday. And happy birthday to me. But after days of shit, conversations, realisations, acceptance… I’ve realised I’m all alone. Not just today.
I’ve been so tired with just the act of survival that I started expecting help for everything else. For my emotional baggage, financial needs, physical… everything.
But my problems are my own. My baggage, my bipolar, my insecurities are all my own. If I find someone who can help me and not hold it over my head, then great. But if not, it’s great too. Expecting help isn’t me. I used to be independent. Self sufficient. Now I’m not even a self. Leave alone being sufficient.
I have been craving for people to make me feel special. For being me. For getting better. For completing 1.5years of no medication or therapy. For not killing myself or someone else every day.
But I myself don’t appreciate these things. I don’t love myself or think I’m special. Then why should someone else? Why would they?
So today, I’m born new. No strings attached. Coz this time, I don’t even have an umbilical cord to cut off!