My birthday is tomorrow. As it approaches, the dread of the big 3-0 decreases. However, my depression about it increases. I guess I built it up for so long (About 6 years or so) the fact that it means so little is disillusioning. In preparing for the horror of 30, I neglected to prepare for the mundaneness of it. The fact that it means so little except that I've managed not to be killed before now. Yay, me.
What do I have going on for me? I have a career, a house, a mortgage, a car, a dog (or 4), a computer, TV, etc. I have siblings, a parent, some decent friends. BLAH BLAH BLAH.
I'm not sure what I was expecting. A deep apathy for the fact I'm alive wasn't it.