In two days, I turn twenty-six. I love my birthdays, used to anyway. It felt like that one day everything could be about me without having to feel guilty. Because I am an empath and I tend to put others at the centre of most things, it felt refreshing to have one day be just mine without any qualms. When I was younger, I would spend these few days before my birthday reminiscing every previous birthday - what I did, how my friends and family surprised me, how I felt, what I wore, how amazing it was. Walking down that glittery birthday memory lane was one of my favourite birthday traditions. But now? This time? I just don’t have the time for that. Never have I felt so strapped for time before. Either I have to work, or I am trying to not cry, or I want to have sex. Work, cry, sex. And if there is any time in between, I indulge in retail therapy. Not without stressing about my credit card bills, of course.
When did life get to this? Twenty-five has been an eventful year, more than I bargained for. I do not know if it was specific to this age or if it’s simply going to be my life going forward. I do not know if I have enough time management and emotional risk-hedging skills for that, to be honest. If I can take a minute to think back to 10 years ago when I was fifteen, turning sixteen, I’d probably cry tears of joy. Baby. I was a baby. Even back then I was dealing with more than I bargained for. Frequent hospital visits, abuse, heartbreak, and the stress of scoring well in exams (boards) that were supposed to determine the course of my career. Okay, I do not know if these are tears of joy. It’s something like a mixed feeling of sadness - I shouldn’t have had to go through all of that - and a feeling of pride - I dealt with everything so strongly and a feeling of wonder and awe - how did I manage all of that and still retain everything soft and whole and pure in me? Because now at twenty-five, about to turn twenty-six, I struggle. But wait, this was supposed to be about the birthday memory lane.
My sixteenth birthday was as sweet as I could have hoped for. My sister ended up buying me 22 gifts (couldn’t stop at 16), I got an email from my then favourite author, my friend baked me the most delicious cake, my best friend got me an identical heart-shaped pendant that I had previously got her, another friend got me a hoodie that is till date my favourite, and my mother made sure I have a good day even though she was distressed. I also had got front bangs that were way too short so I looked funny but nobody said a word about it. The next day I had my English language exam, I think. Language exams never felt like exams to me, they were fun. That’s what I wanted my life, my career to be like. I don’t think I have failed miserably. Tomorrow I have to go to work. And at work, I am an editor, sometimes a writer. Kind of like the adult version of what language exams meant for me. So maybe I haven’t failed so miserably after all? Maybe I haven’t failed at all?
Failing. That’s funny, I have never quite thought in terms of failure and success. That’s not my disposition. What matters to me, then? Having control - control over my life and my time and my emotions and my actions. Maybe that’s why I have been feeling so miserable lately. I may be doing alright on the conventional markers of success like my career and stuff but I have lost control. Or at least I feel like I have. I do not know how to get it back, and I do not know if twenty-six-year-old me will be able to do that. But I do know this, she will try.
And to my twenty-five-year-old self, as I say goodbye, I want to say this - I know you tried too and you did such a good job. Thank you for not losing patience with yourself or becoming bitter and resentful towards the world even though it kept pushing you in that direction. You did so well. We will stop crying now and step out. 그만 울 거야 나올 거야.
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This was the worst birthday of my life and I'm not even bothered. No cake, no birthday shot, no party, no presents. Is this really what I deserve?
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Had the idea a while ago to draw slashers/horror characters with bloody flowers 🥀
I've only finished fred yet and I'm planning to more but it's so time consuming
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god the ending of steven universe just hits harder with everything that’s happening in the world. they pull him apart looking for the woman he used to be only to find out she’s not there anymore. he’s always been himself. and his sheer joy at finding out that no, he wasn’t faking it. no, he wasn’t really the woman they said he was. when you strip him down to his barest essentials, he is the boy he said he was. what an absolutely fucking masterful metaphor about being trans. what a gorgeous statement on how society views lgbtq people. rebecca sugar literally just handed us this beautiful work filled with such bare and honest truths about living and said “yeah and make it appealing to kids so they don’t have to grow up hating themselves”
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