Cake isn't going to cut it this year I'm turning twenty seven soon. The last birthday I remember is my twenty first. I had tequila. S and F gave me a notebook which I filled with ink and things I don't think about anymore. It's in the drawer of my vanity covered in an even layer of dust. V gave me earrings which are still my favorite. I wore them on holiday when I fell in love with C and I almost lost them. C was cheating on A at the time who later became my friend. Then much much later C and I considered and panicked over marriage. C introduced me to my best friend K. He'd taken us both for granted and probably still does. We say to each other that his bringing us together is the only thing to his credit. I don't know about A anymore. And come to think of it, I don't think I knew her very well back then either. I miss F very much. He felt like family. Maybe that's why I didn't expect to miss him. I've lived in Egypt for a decade now. We've moved once. And I haven't been on a plane since I first got here. I remember my first day. I had this very romantic notion of settling down. But everyone I've ever been close to since then had wanderlust. And every place that began to feel familiar is completely foreign to me now. I feel more distinctly alien today than when I first arrived. But I also feel more comfortably alien. I hate birthdays and I hate anniversaries. They make everything slow down and speed up at the same time. I don't know where I am but I've resolved to keep moving. It feels strange to blow out candles for that. |