The more birthdays I get behind me, the more strange and haunting this day feels each year. Not because I find aging depressing or foreboding. That doesn't really bother me. I think it's because birthdays are generally days you commit to memory, and I can't help but think of previous birthdays and the people I spent them with.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
I want to start this entry by saying a huge thanks to everyone who sent me an email after my last entry. The messages were overwhelmingly positive and very, very kind. (I'm just gonna assume the one or two that were mean were from people having bad days.) I'm also sorry if I haven't replied to you. It's definitely not because I didn't read your email or don't care. Whenever I reply to an email, I try to take my time and write out something lengthier and more meaningful than just "thank you!" Unfortunately, I haven't had time the past few weeks to do that, but know all the emails were deeply touching and special to me.