I once heard that you shed all your skin cells every seven years and you are completely different yet exactly the same. I have shed my cells five times this month. 

On the morning of my birthday I wake up on the wrong side of happiness. Slowly I seep into a familiar bleak void. 

I call my sister and cancel my birthday breakfast. I have no cake, no champagne. Things need to change. 

I look at myself in the mirror and think back seven years to the different covering of cells that encased me. Seven years ago I did not know, I had no idea of what was ahead of me – the insomnia, depression, pain, suicide… Instead of looking back to sadder times I stare at my new cells and realise this is the start of something new, I am entering another cycle of seven. What could happen between now and then? Years Thirty five to forty two? 

I am an adult now. I am an adult with experience. I am also an adult who experienced it all and an adult who lived to experience more.


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