So old girl, another birthday tomorrow. Â And my God, what a year.
 So much has happened, so many things I never thought would ever happen happened in such quick succession.  I have become stronger, but I have also found my weakness.  I fell in love for the first time in my life, although I still wont admit it nor say it out loud.
 The funny thing is, throughout my life I have often wondered if I would ever love anyone. I wondered if I was capable of being “in love”.  My heart is so big and it expands constantly to love everyone I meet.  But I had never been “in love”.
 Then I met him. And love wasn’t what he was looking for, and if I am honest love wasn’t what I had available to give.  But it happened, and I fell completely, dangerously and irrationally in love.  I didn’t realise it at first.
 It was never a big moment that made me realise it.  It was all the little ones.  Like the way my heart softened when he was vulnerable and his voice changed. The way I realised that as long as he was looked after, I was content.  Little things day by day.
 The way he reached for my hand during the night, or would pull me closer to him in his sleep.  The moments where he would cross a line and look at me hoping he could joke his way out of it.  I fell in love with all the little broken pieces I had to seek out because they weren’t whole.  I held each one in my hands and loved it until it found its way home and he recovered a little more of himself.  And then I fell in love with the whole.
 Slowly I fell in love with his skin and his scars.  The way his hair fell in his eyes as it dried.  I fell in love slowly with the way he could relate to anyone, anywhere and ask questions I couldn’t even ask people I had known all my life. Â
 The way he would talk to people about me, and I would meet them and they would know exactly who I was.  That I was important.
 Yet nearly a year on, he still tells me not to be so attached.  And he swings between planning the future together to telling me to date other people.  That’s my curse.  No joy without pain.  No simplicity in my happiness.  No security in my vulnerability. Â
 And it’s been hard.  Because I always said: once.  I can fall in love once. No more.  I know myself well enough to know my heart was only crafted to love once, to love one man. And I knew that if it didn’t work out then I was done.  I’m not willing to accept that it’s over yet. Â
 I’ve said it before, I know that in all probability the pain of a thousand broken bones lies in my future.  The pain of watching him walk away to find someone better is almost certainly in my future.  But it’s not going to hurt any more, nor any less if it ends tomorrow.  So, I am here.
 This other naïve little voice in the back of my head keeps saying have faith.  Be patient.  It’s going to be okay.  And I’m not sure which to listen to.
 I’ve always been funny about birthdays.  I usually feel insignificant.  You know how most people have favourite birthdays they can recall? I don’t think I have one of those. I know I had a big party for my 5th birthday because I have watched the video over and over, trying to catch glimpses of my grandad.  I never had a Sweet Sixteen, or an 18th… I remember on my 21st birthday I was lonely.
 On my 30th I went on an online date that lasted all of 30 minutes before I managed to scramble my way out.  I was sick for a week after that.
 I usually get so sad because I feel so unimportant.  I don’t like to compare myself to others, but sometimes it’s hard not to.  I don’t get flowers, or surprise parties.  I don’t go out for dinner with friends and the phone calls I get number maybe one to three. Â
 The past few years, I have just wanted to run away.  There have been birthdays I have found myself driving 3 hours past where I was meant to take an offramp just because I needed to get away from that feeling.
 I’ve never been one for attention, it makes me uncomfortable.  But there is something about not mattering very much on a day that you are supposed to be special that I don’t cope with very well.  So I guess in some fucked up way its like if I go away then it wasn’t so much that no one cared, I just wasn’t around.
 But tomorrow I am not running away.  I am going to work.  And I have asked him to have coffee with me, just so I have something to stay for you know? Because I wont stand him up.  I know that much.
 He keeps asking what’s wrong, and it seems like such a stupid thing to be sad about and I don’t want to make it awkward because he doesn’t know that it’s my birthday. I’m not going to tell him or let him find out by accident.  Maybe it will come up some time next year when it doesn’t matter anymore and we can laugh about it. Â
 So this is why I don’t like my birthday.  Because I get upset and delicate and I cant seem to shake it.  I just wade through the few days before, then get through the actual day and then everything is okay.  But the few days suck.
 I have come a long way, and I know I have a long way to fall and a lot of recovery from failure in my future.  But I am not sitting still anymore, I am moving in the right direction now, cautiously in some ways, irresponsibly in others.
 When I turn 32 next year, I have absolute hope and faith I will be smiling.