This is what adult life is, right? A pigeonhole existence, and nomadic presence.
Here I am fulfilling a childish dream through an adult ambition.
We never really take the 'new' in New Year seriously do we? I know I don't.
2019 is another Pandora's box we open tonight, so let's breathe easy before facing whatever's inside.
When I look at the photos in the yearbooks I only see a shadow of a girl, smiling a broken smile.
It's what you take away from between the pages that stay with you even after you finish the book.
I remember when I used to treasure a photo and keep it between pages to keep it safe.
I don't know how long it will take me to allow myself to get scared again.
22 came before I wanted it to.
I have never particularly understood my feeling towards my own birthday, I've always been in two minds about it.