Looks like I missed my birthday again. But that’s okay. It’s only a age anyway. When you have three children to raise, birthdays seem kind of redundant. Not that I had a good birthday to remember anyways. Especially since the last birthday I remember, I got murdered by my psycho uncle. Not something I want to remember or celebrate.
This place? It’s hard getting used to. I’m just glad I have my husband, girls and son. I don’t need a pack when I have them. They are the reasons why I get up each day. If they weren’t here, I’d be worse off trust me.