Woke up this morning, recalled the date, pulled the duvet over my head, man this just ain’t right…
I gots the birthday blues. (She’s got the birthday blues!)
And so on.
Picture me sitting alone at a table, let’s say for eight (or ten). Two people flail around an otherwise deserted dance floor. I blow dejectly on one of those things that apparently (and disappointingly), according to my ‘research’, are called blow-outs. Half deflated balloons bob sadly around me. I pick up my glass. It is empty.
Every year, since I was tiny, I’ve always set aside time for a good cry on my birthday. Maybe because I’ve always been aware that I’m that little bit closer to death (cue Seinfeld style laughter track). And because you can’t help but reflect – on what you’ve done, what you haven’t done but should’ve, what you still want to do. The way your life’s turned out.
I’m an actual ray of sunshine!
C’s just sent me this text, I’m pretty sure she won’t mind me sharing it, it illustrates me and birthdays pretty well:
So. Raise your glass. To Ema! To me! Cheers.
My beautiful twin cousins are 17 today – they were born on my 18th. So to S & E – you’re beautiful and fantastic people with bright, shiny futures ahead of you!