every year, on my birthday, I take a self ‘portrait’. I set up my camera or phone, stand still, and let the camera go. it’s purely for my own purposes - not for anyone else’s eyes.

today, I set up my phone - propped against some pillows and books - set the timer, and tried to get comfortable. and instead, I started laughing hysterically. I couldn’t stop. stomach aching, face contorted, snorting laughter.

so this. this is 34. all the laugh lines and stretch marks and immaturity and arthritis and burping and broken bones and clothes that are for 19 year olds. all the brains full of formal education and dirty jokes and feminist theory and zombie facts and best ways to make a hot dog. all the heart full from friends sending love and photos and thoughts from everywhere, and the heart sore from heartache and a life well lived that still feels all of the pain from living that life.

and today marks another year lived - and somehow, this photo reflects this year most perfectly. just can’t keep it together, and still can’t figure out when laughing isn’t appropriate.

happy birthday to me.