And then I was two
Two. Only two. Ah, the regrets. Things I could have done, if only I’d have been Not Two! But I wasn’t ‘not two’. I was two. So I didn’t have the vote.
Still. Two, eh? Two, two, two, two, two. Twotwo. Twootytwo.
You know, there are several reasons why I probably should have thought this project through before I started it.
1; I have perhaps the worst memory of anyone I’ve ever met.
2; I just know there will be people and people and people out there, thinking “Nostalgia? Are you Stupid? You’re 28! You’re a little Baby! Nostalgia? You know Nothing from nostalgia! Etc. Etc etc!”
3; My memory isn’t very good.
And yet… I’m going to bloody do it if it kills me. And it’s not that I’m being particularly ‘ohmigod this is my twenty-fucking-eigth birthday’, it’s just the movable type coincidence and that fact that I actually bothered to work out when 28 days before my birthday began. So I’m sticking with it, dagnammit.
So here’s the thing. The thing about ‘two’.
I don’t have any pictures of me at two, and I don’t remember anything.
This project is going to get easier, I swear to Christ. It’s going to get easier, and it’s going to get better.
(What is this ’28/28′ thing? What the hell is going on? Confused? Ah, well then, you should read this. It will inform you. Also, it has important birthday information)