Journal

27

Boom.

So it was my birthday last week. I’ve pretty much spent the months leading up to every birthday from 22 on (21 was obviously a milestone I was excited for, I had been living in Canada but since a family trip to Disney World when I was 11 it’s always been my dream to drink responsibly in Epcot Center) suffering roving bouts of crippling despair. Starting around March each year, my birthday is in June, I’d have moments where I was just sitting in the car, or watching TV, and I would feel my brain clamp down and go “you’re turning 23. you’re turning 24. you’re turning 25.” It was like watching a dog lock its jaws down and shake its prey. I just felt so defeated. This would happen a few times a week until I got about 72 hours removed from my actual birthday and then it was just full on, constant turmoil and sobbing. I forgot to make a birthday wish while blowing out my candles multiple years because I was just so consumed in how sad I was.

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