The worst part about my birthday is that I never know if it’s real.
When all you have is a note pinned to your clothes… or so they say… who can say what really happened on a day you’ll never remember no matter how hard you try.
Was it today? Was it yesterday? Is it another day?
I guess we’ll never know as we grow old. But somewhere along the way, during those nights of drinks and cigarette butts, we have to find a peace inside. A voice that says we are ok with not knowing our past and we can adopt the future instead.
That’s the life of an adoptee sometimes. And each birthday it never gets easier. As we grow older, it actually gets harder sometimes.