Birthdays have a different meaning now.

I love Autumn because it’s so underrated, because it’s the most beautiful of all seasons and because it’s the season of my birth. 

As my birthday approaches I can’t  help but think I view birthdays in a rather bittersweet way now. 

  In one way I think my birthday is extra special and every birthday should be celebrated, yet another part of me thinks yay! I made it to another year, which is perhaps a rather sad way of looking at a birthday. It certainly conjures up a little sadness inside, maybe something a lady in her 90s says to herself too. I kind of think at 35 I really shouldn’t be grateful for making it to 36 yet I sort of am really.

 I wonder if, as a young cancer survivor, I’m the only one who does this..?


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