A Year Of Living Stupidly

17. Midnight

I'm twenty-nine years old.

Not for long. The avalanche that is 30 is crashing down on me. So many changes this year. But what has changed? My career is still over, my marriage is still a failure. At least I'm not in as much debt, which is good. Focus on that. Fuck. I am still turning thirty. Nothing changes that. I won't be in my twenties anymore. No one will protect me. Tomorrow I'll be thirty and alone. A lonely thirty-year-old failure.

I've always craved solitude. Why does it terrify me now? My stomach twists and my skin has erupted into a bloody mess.

I wish I had a sleeping pill. Manager. His new roommate/supplier always has lots of pills. Ambien, Valium, anything.

Should I call Trouble? She doesn't want to see me. If she did, she would have responded to the invitation.

Conniving Friend would come over. But I couldn't stand her for more than five minutes after I'm finished with her.

Maybe Ex-Partner will go out for a drink. Pick up. Pick up.

Very Dear Friend? I'm sure she has to get up early for her new job. I wish we were still going to New York together. Staying in her new boss's apartment in the City. Driving to New England to see the autumn leaves. That would be so nice. She'll do that with her new boyfriend now, I guess. Fuck him. Asshole.

Can't call Threeb. She's probably too busy sucking Older Guy's cock.

Why don't I keep any alcohol in this apartment?

Please, 30. One more day, okay? That's all I ask. One more chance—I won't squander it, I promise. I'll do everything right this time. I won't let anyone down. I won't hurt anybody. I'll face my fears. I won't run away from tough choices. I'll be good.

Oh, god, I can't take the inevitability. Where is my say in this? Stop, please. You don't have to do this. There's got to be another way. Please. I'm begging you. Please don't.

Five seconds. Before I can even finish this sentence, I'll be thir