I TALK A LITTLE ABOUT MYSELF. VERY INSIDE ARTICLE, HANDLED THOROUGHLY.

As I pen this article, the melodies of Ligabue's 'Metti in circolo il tuo amore' play softly in the background. Friends and family have often pointed fingers at me, claiming I have a tendency to play the victim, constantly lamenting what I lack: a sibling to share my family experiences with, a personal space to call my own (Virginia Woolf once wrote about the necessity of having a room for one's thoughts, but I am not her, I recognize that). For me, the start of a new year has always been marked by September, a time when I would purchase a school diary to capture my reflections, aspirations, and disappointments. Over my 37 years, I have faced numerous disappointments, primarily stemming from my own expectations. I felt let down by my high school graduation results, unreciprocated affections, and friendships that I often misinterpreted as sisterly bonds. My relationship with my mother was uniquely mine; it was a challenge that only I could navigate. I recall attempting to heed the advice of my father, my godmother, and my cousin, who is a psychologist, only to return home in tears, causing my father distress. As I matured, I filled my diary with thoughts to distract my mind and heart, often finding solace in the homes and families of my classmates and scout friends. I poured my heart into everything I did, striving to give my all. One skill I excel at is asking questions. When I meet someone new, I make it a point to inquire about their birthday and remember it. A few years back, I became a bit of a chocoholic after wishing a birthday greeting to someone who had tried to share the "Truth" of Jehovah's Witnesses with me. I cherish birthdays, yet I seldom get to celebrate my own. For the past eleven years, I have mourned the traditions my dad and I shared on that day, particularly our morning birthday wishes and the mussel feast we enjoyed at 1 p.m. I have asked my parents to recount those memories countless times, yearning to relive those moments.