Maturity, responsibility and a sense
of balance beckons.
I, however, refuse to listen.
[What I said at 24 and at 25]
Birthdays are a bitch. No this is not
an anger about growing old and about the death of idealism, for that I ask you
to refer to my
last year’s post where I tried to deal with the monumental
milestone of turning 25.
Birthdays are a bitch because no
matter how hard I try not to get misty eyed, my mind is flooded with memories
of other June 3.
As I grew older from my life,
birthdays became more political. No more entertaining Family. Friends are more
the focus.
Things however have changed now.
Older and wiser, I am supposed to dismiss a birthday wish with a shy “thank
you” as if any kind of attention is too embarrassing for an old fogey like me.
I do act “mature” of course. But my
heart is not in it. Because honestly, I still crave for
all the attention and the fussing.
I still count the number of wishes on timeline
and the phone calls I receive even though I know this is “just another day”.
Yes birthdays are a bitch precisely
because of this disconnect between what “should be” and “what is”.
It's a birthday post, I dedicate to myself! :)
But before that let me raise my
imaginary glass to another glorious, opinionated, politically incorrect, a
pleasant year of achieving a ‘Quarter and 1’!
