I Had the Worst Birthday Ever
On February 2nd, I turn twenty-one.
I remember, when I was a child, I waited with mounting excitement for my birthday to arrive. To be sure, my family looked down upon frivolity and I’ve never yet had a birthday party that I could call my own… but still, my birthday was my day. Out of the three-hundred-and-sixty-five faceless days in a year, it was the one day I personally identified with. Today, I wait in numb paralysis for the blow to land.
Ageing. You’ve heard the word before. One normally associates it with wrinkles, graying hair, loss of beauty, retirement, gradual sexual dysfunction etc.
Naturally, I have my own notions of the concept. For me, ‘ageing’ means – unactualized life goals – like greasy dishes piling up in the sink. So much to do, so little time. When I was a child, turning older meant extra privileges – being allowed to go cycling alone, pocket-money (of which I saved every penny!), being promoted to a new class, etc. Now it means one more year gone by, with me none the better for it.
This is an unceasing psychic ache that smarts more urgently with each passing day. Oh, dear God! What am I to do???
Even in my best days, I seem to be drowning in a tide of increasingly urgent questions… And of course, there are those times when my imaginations runs away with me, spawning more demons than I can overpower. To be sure, I am blessed in many ways, but I still feel insufficient, unequipped… Is this normal?
I remember, when I was a child, I waited with mounting excitement for my birthday to arrive. To be sure, my family looked down upon frivolity and I’ve never yet had a birthday party that I could call my own… but still, my birthday was my day. Out of the three-hundred-and-sixty-five faceless days in a year, it was the one day I personally identified with. Today, I wait in numb paralysis for the blow to land.
Ageing. You’ve heard the word before. One normally associates it with wrinkles, graying hair, loss of beauty, retirement, gradual sexual dysfunction etc.
Naturally, I have my own notions of the concept. For me, ‘ageing’ means – unactualized life goals – like greasy dishes piling up in the sink. So much to do, so little time. When I was a child, turning older meant extra privileges – being allowed to go cycling alone, pocket-money (of which I saved every penny!), being promoted to a new class, etc. Now it means one more year gone by, with me none the better for it.
This is an unceasing psychic ache that smarts more urgently with each passing day. Oh, dear God! What am I to do???
Even in my best days, I seem to be drowning in a tide of increasingly urgent questions… And of course, there are those times when my imaginations runs away with me, spawning more demons than I can overpower. To be sure, I am blessed in many ways, but I still feel insufficient, unequipped… Is this normal?
By:
cameronr
Age:
18-21
,
Female
