My Baby Turned 4...

...and I almost missed it. 

I was so worked up about dealing with my mom and the car, humans that shouldn't be occupying space in my brain, and someone else's upcoming event, that I spent all morning Tuesday not realizing it was Lynette Nicole PR's 4th birthday. 

It's a miracle she made it out of the last two years alive. The one thing that someone showed so much interest in at a point in time is one of the many things they tried to destroy. However, they somehow didn't. She survived both that and coronavirus part one. Me on the other hand,..still barely hanging on.

I'm proud of my baby for hanging on for dear life and climbing back up. It's been a wild ride and can't wait to see what the future holds for her, and the industry as a whole. But I know for damn sure, if she goes down it's because of me...not because of a piece of shit who didn't know what they wanted out of life (at the time - I suppose, or I know because I wrote it before, that if you cheat, and do/say the horrific things you did, you clearly know who and what you want now) wanted me to feel the same. Even through hysterics and incoherentness, I never lost sight of my goals or what I wanted. 

That being said...shit is my sixth sense on fire. I'm assuming we can all expect a few giant announcements soon that will send me to meltdown central. But until then I'm going to pretend I'm normal and fine and do the things. 

As I sit here scrolling Twitter and other social media sites, it's insane to think that 2020 could possibly be just as strange as 2019 yet here we fucking are. I feel like I've adapted to some of this craziness better than others because I had already had my world rocked my normal stolen from me. I don't recommend being cheated on, gaslighted, and lied to, it's not as riveting as it sounds, but it has helped me adjust to coronatimes. That is incredibly fucked up. Just as fucked up as doing everything we talked about together with someone else.

Turns out in a pandemic misery doesn't get company so back to the couch solo it is. 

Tomorrow is a another day - will I cry (probably) or enjoy it? Who the fuck knows.

XO,

Lynette