I don't know where to start...
My 27th birthday is in a couple of days.
My younger sister keeps telling me that I could still easily blend right in with the 16-year-olds of this generation. I guess I should tuck that away as a compliment for the days when the the light just catches the glisten of grey hairs emerging en mass on my head. This, I cannot deny despite my vain attempts to disguise the inevitable truth: I am getting older.
I consider this ironic, as once upon a time, not too distant or forgotten in my own memory, when the single most important event of the year was the day that marked my getting older. It's been a few years since I've felt that excitement, and now, my heart yearns for genuine youth - the kind that doesn't come in a box - minus the fact that I was such a loser...heh...but that's tale for another day...
This year is particularly depressing...
It's been a month since the grand unveiling of dad's infidelity. The kind of sordid affair that went on behind my mum's back for nearly a decade. I scoff now as I recall the details of what I could only describe as a cheap-skate drama that this family had to endure in the name of love.
Truth be told, this isn't the first time I've heard of dad's inability to remain loyal to mum. The first episode was during my early university days, which now seems apparent to be the beginning of the decade of deceit. I was enraged, spiraled uncontrollably down the darkened path of destruction. I took it hard upon myself to avenge woman-kind. Silly me...
I could have made an awesome feminist, had it not dawned upon me that one woman's trophy is another woman's broken heart...
Behind every successful man is a woman, they say. What they didn't tell you is that behind every scorned woman is another woman...
