1 August

My birthday, and the most depressing day of the year. From when I was a child every birthday was worse than the last. There would be arguments and tears, kicks and punches (psychologically). Mum and I would stop talking, sometimes for days after. Even if I tried celebrating after this day, something would go wrong. I think it was around my 16th birthday when I stopped giving a shit. For a few years after, my family would try to encourage me to do something with them or with my friends but I didn’t have any desire to. Now we don’t even discuss my birthday at home. My sister still tries, actually she probably gets more excited than I do, but my answer is always “nothing”.

The emotional association started today, when I said I would bake a cake and mum told me not to. I replied “do you know it’s 1st August tomorrow” and mum raised her eyebrows at me saying “yes, so what do you want for your birthday?”.


Back where I started, 2 years ago

These past few month of my life have been so difficult and confusing. I fought to keep my relationship alive, I fought demons, my health has declined, I’ve struggled at uni – and now after all of this, my relationship with S has ended. Again.

It’s been hard, both of us have been hurt along the way. Every wrong turn leads back to our past and everything we did wrong the first time round. I’m not sure that either of us really want it to end, but it’s better that it ends now.

So where do I go from here? I’m just about to start a new chapter of my life and I have absolutely no direction. Currently, the next step is to drown myself in tequila and regrets at my 23rd birthday, and then I can start adulting.