OLD

Today is my birthday.



Ten or so years ago, my birthday would probably have made me feel something like this:

But I'm not a little kid anymore. And I actually feel a little something like this:

I feel like it's important to note that I am having a good day. I have amazing friends that have done their best to make me feel special. And I'm very grateful for that.

BUT...

I just don't understand birthdays anymore. It seems to me that the inevitable descent toward senescence is not exactly something one would enjoy acknowledging, even if only on an annual basis. Of course, we humans, by nature, look for opportunities to flatter ourselves. Birthdays are rife among the masses, but for some reason we find these anniversaries of life to be something to celebrate. I don't really get why being older is an inherently honorable thing.

Regardless, older is what I am. Yes, one year older. What a dirty word, OLDER.

I'm 22 now. A good age, I think. I've never uttered the phrase, "I'm 22" before. It'll take some getting used to, obviously.

But I'm still young, thank goodness.

Thank goodness, indeed. There was a lot I wanted to have accomplished by this point in my life, but meh. I don't mind being unaccomplished. Last week it didn't bother me so much that I hadn't done all the things on my "Before I turn 22" bucket list, and it shouldn't bother me now. Just change it to a 23, and I'm all set for the next 365.

In any case, I am only a day older than I was yesterday. Meaning I haven't changed much in the transition from 21 to 22. Meaning I could write a whole blog post about the insignificance of birthdays or I could follow the pattern set by my 21-year-old self of shrugging my shoulders and going my way rejoicing.

I think I'll choose the latter.