25

I'm 25 today.

I had an emotional crisis at the bar about this yesterday. I cried into my third cup of Absolut Mandarin and Fresh Squeezed Orange Juice. Then the Mexican brought out a birthday cake, and I bawled.

I haven't really celebrated a birthday since I was 13. I still have no plans to really celebrate tonight.

After vomiting all of the vodka and chocolate cake because orange juice and chocolate do not mix, especially on an empty stomach. I started to feel better. This guy and I compared scars. I'm pretty sure he one because he was in a humvee that got his by an IED, but my knee is pretty badass. He also brought me rice from his house. It was insanely perfect, and exactly what I wanted. The bartender, who I am buddies with, didn't let me pay for any of my drinks. It really was a great night.

We went to taco bell and then the MTA made me pay for that because the train started running in sections. I got home around 1:30am.

I went out this weekend too. Sadly, I don't feel like writing anymore.

Maybe I'll update about what it really feels like for me to be 25 tomorrow.

For now, happy birthday to me!

ASIDE: This is the email my dad wrote me that made me cry at the copy machine

Dear K,
 
It's hard to believe that 25 years have passed since mommy and I brought home our 

little bundle of joy.  You probably noticed while growing up that you had no 

siblings, like most other kids did. As our only genetic representative in the 

future of the universe, ensuring your well-being has been the single most powerful 

driving force of our lives.   Seeing the wonderful person that we have bestowed 

unto the earth, I think we did a pretty darn good job.   We're batting a thousand, 

one for one. I love that you're back in the house, and that I get to see you every 

day and be reminded just how fortunate I am. So Happy Birthday, and may all of 

your dreams forever come true.
 
Love,
Dad