Wedded Blisters

I'm going to my friend's wedding in two weeks and I want to be entirely excited for the reunion of my Unnamed Liberal Arts College College clique, but I return to them alone, 30 lbs heavier, afflicted, and about to try to finish what I failed to complete with them. I feel like I will be showing up as Failure Annabell, as the Annabell that's only gone backwards since we were together. All I have to offer is myself and these are the people for which that should be exactly enough because once they loved me for who I was, but that's somehow the same reason why I most want to come to them shiny and accomplished instead of fat and pain-worn with my best news that I'm about to start school again to get the degree I should have gotten with them ten years ago. To them, my restarting school may be less of a triumph and more of an admission of errors past, and restarting school is my one good thing right now. Finding relative freedom from the migraines was my other huge good thing, but it's hard to concentrate on that when my health has taken a nosedive and I'm seeing my doctors even more frequently than usual.

I have to remember that I'm doing the best I can with what I have, and I only need the love of those who can see that. I have no worries about Birdie, and Sunny will probably be far more preoccupied with the fact that the former Love of Her Life is getting married. The Boy isn't a Boy to me anymore, so I just cannot allow whatever comes from him to bother me. We always had fun together in a platonic bantering goofy way, too--maybe he's still fun. I know, despite all the shit, I can be. I guess that's my real triumph.