Well, it's my last day in Florida for a while, and it's also my thirty-first birthday. I guess it should be no surprise that today feels weird -- dense and chunky, and at the same time, it feels like it is going way too fast for me to grab onto.
I've never been a big birthday person -- I'm not a performer, I don't like to be the center of attention, and I generally think holidays of any sort are way more aggravation than they're worth. BUT. I think everybody needs to be shown that they're important in someone's life, and I think birthdays are when people sort of hope for that kind of reassurance the most. Secretly, way deep down, I tend to think of my birthday as the barometer by which I judge just how loved I am. And that's really stupid, considering that out of my five closest friends, only two of them even know when my birthday is, and vice versa. What's even more fucked up is that I'm terrible when it comes to remembering birthdays and buying cards and gifts and all that jazz. I can never understand why everybody isn't as excited as I am to receive books at every gift-giving holiday (what is wrong with you people?). The MOST fucked up thing about my birthday is that I always end up receiving a lot more love and attention than I ever expect, and then I feel like an idiot for those five minutes in the morning I spent feeling halfway sorry for myself. What am I, an egocentric third-grader? Why yes, yes I am.
How do you guys feel on your birthdays?
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2 comments:
Pretty much the same way you do. For most of the year I am reclusive and bitter towards most everything. My birthday is one of the few times I let the guard down and try to use it as a reassurance that there are people out there who still care about me. Then it's back to being a dick the next day.
I hate that weakness in myself, but as I grow older I find I am more accepting of my weak points and less proud of the supposed strong ones.
Sometimes humanity seems like a fucking curse, and other times I want to shout my delight in daily life from the mountaintops. Such it is.
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