

the birthday bitch
Who is she? Where does she come from? Why does she rear her ugly head every year?
Birthdays are supposed to be fun, right? Not for me and I know I’m not alone. Every year I want to stay in bed and cry. One year I actually did.
On December 31st I woke like any other day but this morning I didn’t reach for my phone. Instead I reached for Rupi Kaur’s The Sun and Her Flowers. I opened to a page at random and read the poem. i do not weep
because i’m unhappy
i weep becaus