birthday scary

I get so resentful and restless around my birthday. I need someone to lay on me, and not an animal. Like a guy. Animals have been annoying me extra hard. I can’t be surrounded by Such ignorance and optimism. And they want so much, I cannot give that much. I can only be around people with healthy doses of reality and who practice cynical acceptance: lean into it. I’m so bored. God I could make a list of my resentments and I probably will. And nothing will make me not bored. I went to Montreal last weekend with beautiful people and even there, at clubs cafes ice cream parlors bookshops bars parks sidewalks streets stores shops, I was bored. I’ll coin this particular state of angst as soul boredom. Please don’t pathologize—I get it. Summer does this to me. Heat depresses me. I can’t wait for winter. I can only watch tv and read in small doses. When I’m alone I miss eating with people so I try to gather around meal time. 

I’m getting tattooed tomorrow, an appointment I booked when I had more money. It’s a guy off instagram so they can’t take my credit card. I have just enough money to put a deposit down on an apartment that I can afford (<1000/month), and I have to move, so I really can’t spend any money, especially after tattoo. This complicates meal time. I apply to jobs everyday. Some are surely scams. Some are real. Some require portals. Most reject. My ex is sending me a package with my stuff in it. I told him to make it birthday-coded. He agreed, thank god.