Year 28.

Well I officially made it.

10 years of living. 28 years of life.

Happy Birthday to me.

But it actually doesn’t feel like my birthday. It’s June 5, the day I was born and it doesn’t feel like my birthday, but it feels like something is different. Something in me that I haven’t felt before.

And I can’t figure out what this feeling is…but it’s something that feels significant.


My feelings are emotional, but sometimes it feels so emotional that I feel it physically.

There is a small sense of hope in this different feeling that I have not felt in a long time, especially on my birthday.

Hope. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt…hope.

Many times I hope things can happen. I hope that something good can happen. I hope that I can meet someone right for me. I hope that one day that I can have that life that I’ve been dreaming of.

For once I can use hope in a different way. It’s not just a picture in my mind of things that I desire, but may not happen.

I am hopefulI am hopeful of what is going to happen in my life. No matter what happens.

It’s weird. Because this is different, but it’s good.

I don’t have this long list of bullet points of what I want to accomplish in Year 28. I don’t have a definite plan for this year.

I don’t have this timeline of what I need to be and what I should do in this age.

I am not upset over the lack of birthday greetings and shout outs that I received. And I don’t care that I’m not doing something extravagant on this day.

I don’t care. 

This sentence has been in my head all day.

I don’t care. And it’s not caring for others and being kind. But in a sense that I don’t care of outside perspectives of me. I don’t care that I’m not in that place in time of where I’m supposed to be.

I don’t care if I don’t think of others feelings first. I’ve done this for 28 years. And it ends at the beginning of 28 years. Because I put others feelings first and in the end, I always get hurt.

And most importantly, I don’t care if anyone knows about my depression and anxiety. This is a part of me. For about 15 years now.

I don’t care how others see mental illness and put me in this particular category of stereotypes and stigmas.

I struggle. Everyone with mental illness struggles everyday. And I don’t want to hide this. I want everyone to understand this struggle.

Here’s to Year 28.

(aka happy birthday to me).


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