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I always end up having a little cry on my birthday. Even on the best ones.
Sometimes it's a happy cry. More often than not, I'm not even sure why I'm emotional. Maybe it's simply an echo of the day I first entered this world — scrunch-faced and crying and trying to figure it all out.
It's not like I'm sad about getting older, or particularly sentimental about the passage of time, but something about the existence of a special day on which we're supposed to feel and reflect and be adored and have lunch somewhere fancy somehow ends up overwhelming me at one point or another.
I always thought I was alone in this, but when I caught up with a girlfriend for her birthday a few weeks ago, she revealed that she'd spent the morning having a little cry on the beach.
Another friend admitted she doesn't like to organise things because she feels weirdly sensitive if something goes wrong, while yet another said the biggest fight she's ever had with her partner was over his failure to post a public display of birthday love on Instagram. Even though the last time he posted was 2016.
Watch: How much do I contribute to a work gift? Post continues after video.