I’m twenty-four today. Saying it feels strange.
No presents to open. No cards to read. No candles to blow out. No Facebook well wishers to thank. No one to see my birthday suit. No one to succumb to my pleas, no matter how ridiculous or unbefitting of my age as they may be. No one to tell me I’m still so young despite my limp attempts at nostalgia. No parents to hug for the seventh year running. No bother man. Just another day, innit?
So if you, yes the wonderful you, would be so kind as to return again to the blog, I would consider that a birthday present and promise to put off cutting myself until next year at least.