Birthday.

It's 8th April here in Sydney. It's cold out, the sky is threatening rain, and all I really want to do is crawl back into bed with my laptop and try to write. Instead, I'm going to keep getting ready for work and hope that the day runs smoothly. That's all you can really hope for when you've got a job to get to.

As the title suggests, today is my birthday. (Thank you.) I'm turning twenty-four, though I still think of myself as a teenager and can't believe that I'm almost a quarter of a century old. Where did all those years go?

To most of my friends, birthdays mean: parties, drinking, going to the pub, hanging out in a huge group, presents, flowers, cards, gift vouchers, spending the day however you like.

I've never really been a birthday fan. I spent my big one-eight working at eight hour shift while our store had a major consultation. I'd been promoted to head of the crew the week before, so a lot of the focus was on me. It was stressful, but it was what I'd come to expect. Everybody sung happy birthday and our consultant was extremely nice to me, but it still felt like just another day.

All birthdays to me are just another day. But if I had to wish for something this year, I would wish for inspiration. I haven't written anything in months, and it's well and truly driving me crazy now. I need to stop looking at my quarter of a chapter as something that needs to be perfect and just get the damn thing done. I need to get past that first hurdle and get the story written.

I miss posting on here. I write for myself, but I still miss my readers and the inspiration they provided me.

All I want for my birthday is to be able to write.