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45. I used to hate my birthday.
It never meant anything to me, really. I was never excited for it, for happy when it came. It was just another thing to get through.
But then I had someone special to share that birthday with (in the literal sense) and suddenly my birthday had meaning. My birthday wasn't a great day, but it was with you in it. I remember quite clearly for excited I was to show you what I'd made for you.
