Deflating and Pretending

As I was preparing for my nightly before-bed ritual Tuesday night I sat down on my bed, which suddenly sank really low under me. I own a double-high queen size aero-mattress bed; it turns out there was a small quarter inch hole in the top, and I got really upset because these were the thoughts that came after that realization:

My bed is deflating. I hate that the bed that I own deflates. I am living a life where my bed is deflate-able. This is so sad. When did I buy this? A year ago? Yes, because I was naive enough to take the advice of my now ex-boyfriend, who came up with the idea to buy it. Naive enough to think that the next bed in my life would be bought WITH him. God damn it.

I tried to fix it, but at one o'clock in the morning I was still sinking in my bed, so I gathered up my blankets and moved to the guest room upstairs. ( I spent all day Wednesday trying different things to fix it, including the patches that come with it and did not work. With a little risk-taking with a hot glue gun I had repaired it before bed)

The next day, Wednesday, I'm sitting at a stoplight when the woman in the lane next to me flags me down. I roll down my window and she tells me I have a flat tire. Turns out, she's right. I take into the shop and they tell me they found two nails in it. Not one, but two.
I leave my car at the shop and as my mom picks me up, she notes that things in my life seem to be losing air.
Tell me about it.

It's my 26th birthday tomorrow.
On my 25th, a year ago, I worked that day, and teenage girls made me a microwave pizza with candle in it. I was touched by the pizza thing and all, but over-all, my 25th year wasn't that great.
Which is surprising, because I had really been looking forward to it for most of my life. When my best-friend and I were little I remember we'd play pretend at being 16; because then you could drive. But then we aimed higher, and would play pretend at being 25, because then you'd be able to drive, you'd have a boyfriend, and live in a cool apartment. When I actually did turn 25, I was able to drive, I did have a boyfriend, and an apartment. Also, I had a job. And I was miserable. Just goes to show you, well, goes to show me - you can have everything you always thought you wanted, everything you would pretend to have you can actually have, and you'll still only be pretending to be happy.
As I enter into my 26th year, I can still drive (for the moment), I'm single, I'm living in my parent's basement, and I'm unemployed. I'm extremely stressed about money, and things in my life seem to keep losing air, but I'm hoping that was all about year 25. Year 26 has a whole lot of potential - and I'm not pretending at anything.