Hello me.

In a few hours, you will turn eighteen. Wow, can't believe it. Well done, you. You've made it this far. Thank you for having the guts to live. Thank you for hoping for something spectacular to happen. You know how it was, 2 years ago, wanting to die? Remember how it felt like you couldn't be anything more but an emotional fuckwit and a disaster? Remember this friend who told you that you could be so much more if you lived, and what a waste if you died then? Oh my god, eighteen. It's scary isn't it. No claiming of medical bills, no restrictions to buy dangerous lung killers, and wow, the dream of becoming a porn star is indeed possible. Hah, when you were 16 you were whining about not being 18 because you weren't old enough to be a porn star. How cute. Damn Ana, you were hilarious.

Oh my god, how old you have become. You remember that when you knew Adam he was eighteen? And now you're going to be eighteen! What haven't you done Ana? Well for one, not having someone who weren't in primary school to like you, being emotionally close to someone, and dancing in the rain. Thank you for not having sex and thank you for being a tad closer to marrying Gerry Butler.

My dear Ana, look how far you've journeyed. Thank you God, thank you for letting her live. I love you God, I love you Ana, for having the guts to live.

Thank you for all the friends you have made. For the friends you have lost along the way. For the mother you learnt to care for, for the father you learnt to laugh at. Thank you for being mature, thank you for battling bulimia. And thank you for being fat.

Thank you for falling in love with dirty pirates and sexy Spartans. Thank you for being an artist, and a poet.

Thank you god, for the talents I possess, for the gratitude I have for people who I have learned from, for the empathy I have for people who do not have the things that I have.

Happy Birthday me. Happy Birthday.

Labels: birthday