1 January 2018
Today is my eighteenth re-birthday, though I am also thirty-five.
I have a metal box in my chest, and next year I will need my batteries replaced again. The leads that connect it all up have a habit of stabbing me in the heart when I least expect it. I have mild hypoxic brain damage that messed up my concentration so I’ll never win Mastermind and I have to take pills for the rest of my life.
I am so bloody lucky.
I can’t know when my heart will beat for the last time. No one can.
But looking at the girl who didn’t give up on me makes me feel like a teenager again.
So I kiss her.