Most said I'd never get this far
19 realy is the most empty of bithdays.
Nothing special happens. At 18, you're an adult. At 21, you can drink. Even 20 has a bit of significance, what with marking the end of your "teens" and being an even number. But 19? Eh. It's pointless, really. One should be able to skip 19 and go straight on to 20.
It doesn't even feel like my birthday, really. Today was no different than yesterday, and no different than tomorrow will be. I woke up at the same time - quarter to 8 or there abouts - and went to math class where I understood only part of what I was supposed to be learning about calculus. I had breakfast at Hatfield's like every morning. Read the last pages I needed to read for English class, then went to said English class. The afternoon was spent with my trying - for the third time - to sell my plasma only to fail again for a completely bullshit technicality of a reason. Tonight, I'll probably spend the evening reading over my psychology book and watching my roommate get his ass kicked over and over by the other guys on our floor in Madden. I probably would've forgotten myself that it was my birthday had it not been for the multitude of Facebook messages I got, spured mostly, I'm sure, by the fact that Facebook reminds you when your friends' birthdays are.
It's a weird feeling. I mean, I don't expect the world to stop just 'cause it's little old me's birthday, but at the same time, it still makes me feel kind of... small. I just remember back when I was a little kid and how I used to go to Chuck E' Cheese's or Celebration Station and stuff like that. My parents used to have big parties for me and make a big deal of it. I used to get as many presents out of my parents as I possibly could, with long lists of suggestions and requests. Now, I'll see my parents for about 2 hours this Saturday when they come up here just long enough for have dinner. The presents will be limited to just a bit of cash, most likely; hell, at this point, I probably have more disposable income than them.
I don't wanna say I feel alone, 'cause that's not really it at all. I don't feel "lonely", just... I don't know. Detached? Detached from maybe the way birthdays used to be when I was younger and how they are now. I guess it's on one's birthday when you feel the smallest, when you realize that, in this massive world of 6.725 billion people, you're but a single, tiny speck of existance.
Maybe that's why getting a dozen Facebook messages, despite the fact that not one of these people would've known it was my birthday if Facebook hadn't told them, means a little something. It's good to know that, even if for just a day, there's some people out there wishing you luck and happiness.
Small, yes, but in this world, it's the small things that really count.
Nothing special happens. At 18, you're an adult. At 21, you can drink. Even 20 has a bit of significance, what with marking the end of your "teens" and being an even number. But 19? Eh. It's pointless, really. One should be able to skip 19 and go straight on to 20.
It doesn't even feel like my birthday, really. Today was no different than yesterday, and no different than tomorrow will be. I woke up at the same time - quarter to 8 or there abouts - and went to math class where I understood only part of what I was supposed to be learning about calculus. I had breakfast at Hatfield's like every morning. Read the last pages I needed to read for English class, then went to said English class. The afternoon was spent with my trying - for the third time - to sell my plasma only to fail again for a completely bullshit technicality of a reason. Tonight, I'll probably spend the evening reading over my psychology book and watching my roommate get his ass kicked over and over by the other guys on our floor in Madden. I probably would've forgotten myself that it was my birthday had it not been for the multitude of Facebook messages I got, spured mostly, I'm sure, by the fact that Facebook reminds you when your friends' birthdays are.
It's a weird feeling. I mean, I don't expect the world to stop just 'cause it's little old me's birthday, but at the same time, it still makes me feel kind of... small. I just remember back when I was a little kid and how I used to go to Chuck E' Cheese's or Celebration Station and stuff like that. My parents used to have big parties for me and make a big deal of it. I used to get as many presents out of my parents as I possibly could, with long lists of suggestions and requests. Now, I'll see my parents for about 2 hours this Saturday when they come up here just long enough for have dinner. The presents will be limited to just a bit of cash, most likely; hell, at this point, I probably have more disposable income than them.
I don't wanna say I feel alone, 'cause that's not really it at all. I don't feel "lonely", just... I don't know. Detached? Detached from maybe the way birthdays used to be when I was younger and how they are now. I guess it's on one's birthday when you feel the smallest, when you realize that, in this massive world of 6.725 billion people, you're but a single, tiny speck of existance.
Maybe that's why getting a dozen Facebook messages, despite the fact that not one of these people would've known it was my birthday if Facebook hadn't told them, means a little something. It's good to know that, even if for just a day, there's some people out there wishing you luck and happiness.
Small, yes, but in this world, it's the small things that really count.