There is a certain beautiful, horrible irony in the fact that I've spent my 33rd birthday single, alone, and at home, mildly worn out, peopled out, & nursing some aches from celebrating my ex-boyfriend's wedding the night before, along with my recent ex.
If it really bothered me too much I wouldn't take the piss, but -- let's all take a moment to appreciate that my life is legitimately a really bad romantic comedy movie plot right now. It's so bad I almost want to turn it into a fanfic.
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