In my head, I was forever 21 and reaching middle age just didn’t seem to fit with my persona.
Getting hurt is easy, not letting it change who you are isn’t.
The turkey is gobbled and the pumpkins are mulch. You’re allowed to decorate. It’s OK now.
Of course, if anyone does them wrong, I would go buck on them. That’s a given. But I’ll just wait until that happens.
Of course, if you asked, I would have told you I was a “realist”. That’s the term that someone uses to dance around the fact that they’re really a self-hating pessimist.