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“I’ve always hated my birthday,” Ashleigh explains. “It’s just one more reminder of how little progress I’ve made. I’m in exactly the same spot I was this time last year. Looking at the same four walls in the same house in the same town, only minus a husband.”
“And it’s not a day to celebrate progress, anyway,” I insist. “It’s a day to celebrate existence.
Life isn’t a competition, and neither is love, but I’m still the loser.
it matters way more that you’re present than that you’re perfect.
