ISN'T SHE LOVELY | hs

12 | BIRTHDAY EVERY DAY

| MICKAYLA |
Thursday 13th October, 2022

Perhaps the light that made her beautiful was not from her eyes, nor from her smile, but from the way that no matter the darkness that swirled around her, within her, she still found the courage to shine.

Those aren't my words; they're from a woman called Mandy Antoniacci. I think she wrote them about you, though.

Happy Birthday, riot girl.

Thank you for being born. Thank you for soon allowing my very own riot girl to be born, too.

All my love,
H

I read over the words written by Harry in my birthday card for the millionth time this last near fortnight, and the hundredth time today. They still hit as hard as they did the first time, but especially so right now because at this moment, they don't feel true.

I don't feel courageous. I don't feel like I shine. There is no light. I'm not beautiful.

I'm sitting dressed up and ready to head to the album launch party for Doll Parts, but truthfully I couldn't think of a worse place to go. I just want to be alone.

Since my birthday, I've been in a bad headspace. I feel like how I did in my late teens, a feeling that I would get rid of with booze and sex with strangers.

There's no chance of doing any of those three things now. I've honestly never felt more grateful to be pregnant than I do in this present moment to prevent a spiral like that from happening again, even if my arse has been metaphorically kicked with morning sickness and I've never been more tired.

I wish I could go back to how I felt on my birthday. My sickness bug thankfully fucked off the next day, but you wouldn't think I was still under the weather at all from how simply happy I felt on my day; and it's all thanks to Harry.

He made it so special. From the gifts, the brunch, the bubble bath, the paint session, the homemade chocolate cake that he had sneakily neglected to mention and snuck through to the living room all lit up as he cheerily sung 'Happy Birthday' to me after we'd eaten dinner, and the marathon of horror movies that we watched to round it all off, the day was perfect.

I also spent an hour or so calling our friends and Harry's family to thank them for the lovely gifts, too, so that was nice. I didn't want to sleep and move on to tomorrow; more than happy for time to freeze and keep us locked in October third at Harry's house.

I think it's because I knew what was coming next. I knew that there'd be a drop in my dopamine levels, that complete depression would hit hard, because there always is and it always does after the day. I can't stop it, and that's what hurts the most.

Despite Elin and Pauli's best efforts of making my birthday special in the few years that I've known them, and now Harry's most recent attempts, my birthday will always be tainted. Don't get me wrong, I always feel good on the day itself now thanks to them and all they do for me, but the day that follows? Fuck, the weeks that follow?

I'm simply reminded about my mother and how she very much wished, and still wishes, that I'd never been born at all.

Things that bring me joy usually simply don't right now. The only brushes that I've picked up over the last two weeks are my hairbrush daily and my makeup brushes today; both of which have been a struggle.

I haven't painted anything since Harry and I's little art session, which isn't good for me and my now booming business. Commissions are stacking up and I'm too close for comfort with some deadlines on pieces that I'm still yet to start.