The Munch had a family birthday party this Sunday, and I think it kind of melted her mind. She has known for months that her birthday is July 2nd and has been preparing for her party ever since the idea got planted into her brain. But I think she was mostly excited about the cake. There was a lot of talk about cake. And an excessively passionate dedication to eating said cake. Followed by an extreme need to make sure some cake was saved for tomorrow.
Although I think The Munch enjoyed herself, the whole event also seemed emotionally exhausting. Any time there is anticipation for something grand, there is a depression attached that is as stealthy as a firefly trying to rob you at night.
Before her party The Munch was in a state of anxiety and stress as she waited for whatever was in store, and then after her party there was this malaise and melancholy for all that had been.
It reminded me of all the New Years Eves, Valentines Days, Birthdays, Christmases of my past, and how so many of them were punctured by confused emotions and existential anguish. How nothing is ever what you expected to be, and even if it is really lovely, the fantasy of what we conjure will always taint what is. That it is impossible to truly find pleasure in anything you anticipate.
Or maybe I have my period so my hormones are fuming to the point where I feel like peeling out of my own skin to torture all beings I come across with my bloody rage, and I am just projecting.