The first of December was the second time I've ever spent my birthday in another city, as well as the second time I've spent it with a sole another person who's not a relative (both were, coincidentally or not, girls). It wasn't the best birthday for me, but it let me figure some important things out, which always makes for a good day. I feel like this is a start of a quite a few life lessons for me, as well, and I'm excited to learn.

I don't know quite what I feel about it. I don't have any good friends (what Russians call simply "friends") to spend time with, nor do I have any special activities for the day. In all aspects, it's an ordinary day for me since I don't have any high feelings associated with it (every birthday of mine barring the last two was merely my extended family's reason to drink and talk their rubbish talks), hence me growing dull to the event. Even then, I didn't want to spend it ordinarily, because I believe that a birthday's supposed to be good and it's the bad circumstances that rob us of the feeling.

Whether the latter is true, I've allowed myself to spend the birthweek pretty well. I've made a great bowl of one salad I enjoy for myself and am going to make another later today. I'm not inviting anyone because, like I said, I don't have any friends, and receiving forced compliments is like scratching on my soul. I'm not celebrating in a traditional sense, though I wish I could. For now, I'm just having fun with what I have.

Oddly enough, somehow, my uni group has figured out that it was my birthday. Nobody know even how old I was (I hid the fact earlier when meeting them), so this was surprising and, particularly, surprisingly thoughtful of them. Things... happen.