(drawing is mine, inspired by jeanclaude_browncloud)
Celebrating birthdays is the weirdest thing.
I'm eating another small raspberry cake and drinking cider and writing one of my favourite stories and looking at Nina having fun with a white pencil. And it's the weirdest feeling because it's a day like any other—but at the same time it's not.
Looking back at the passing year, I see how far I've come. I'm still struggling with my mental health, especially with anxiety that has been plagueing me my whole life, but I'm getting better. I've changed a lot of my unhealthy habits, created new coping mechanisms, and I do see the rainbow at the end of the road, as bittersweet the walk is.
In a way, birthdays remind me that I'm not alone. Even if I don't talk to some people on a daily basis, it just feels nice to connect, to have someone remember, and then just celebrate.
I don't care about the numbers. I was bad at math at school, and I do believe that age is as useless as cos we never use in adult life. I just want to live my life fully.
So—a toast to another birthday under the August starry skies 🥂
