On my 7th Birthday I was slapped in the face three times. Piñata: Purple and pink— my little pony themed. All the kids lining up and lining up, loud cheering waiting to pull this hanging thing apart like they hadn’t eaten a sugary sweet taffy in decades. As I reached my turn at the front of the line, a demon meets my eyes— her smirk and laugh after the swing, the swing that lashed out onto my fresh 7 year old face. My aunt took me to the kitchen for an ice cold bag of peas. Gifts: When we opened gifts— I think what can get better than this : Two decorative K’s with glitter. Two? It was not until later I learned that my family grew old and is now breaking apart into two. Now: My eyes burning with red from the spring falling and falling as that is what naturally came. Now I sit here pretty with water building in my eyes and a sore face eating my cake. Once birthdays were full of different shades of pinks, and the blowing of candles, is just another year in a world that turns more grey by the day.