Sure, the big days are hard. Turning 23 while you remain forever 22. It’s almost like time is forcing me to move on as the seasons change. But everyone expects those days to be tough. They’re prepared for with family visits and pre-planned activities. What’s hard is 3pm coffee breaks and 2am wake-ups, reaching for your hand and finding cold blankets. Making an extra cup just to pour it down the drain. When I drive alone from place to place I find the limbo between activities is what makes me ache. Not the forced smiles or the fake laughter, but the moments where reality settles and there’s static where the smiles used to be. I am forced to look in the mirror and see only my shadow beside me - no one else.