Officially old
So I'm turning 23 sometime really soon and I just want to forget about it. I've always had issues with my birthday and I never knew why until I had a stoney epiphany last night and realized that all of my birthday issues are directly related to my anxiety with regards to time.
It freaks me out that time can never be made up, it's always going, you can't stop moments, you can't speed them up. Every second that passes is another closer to death, to missing out on something.
Another birthday is another, even more intense reminder of time. I'm not planning on checking out anytime soon, but still. One day I'm going to die and everytime I hear "Happy Birthday!" my morbid ass is reminded of that.
This is also the first birthday (of several to come, I'm sure) where there is absolutely nothing to gain from getting older. 18, 19, 20, 21 (obviously), 22... There was something in it for me in accomplishing those landmarks. Now it's just 23. Meh.
And then the questions start coming like "Do you think you and Jonathan are going to get married anytime soon?" Yes I was actually asked that. (For the record, NO, we're not getting married anytime in the near future. I've got issues with the idea of being married to someone without being fabulously wealthy first.)
That's a question you ask someone who is old.
And then my shoulder was acting up (when is it ever not?) last night and for the first time since my injury almost seven years ago, I realized that it's never going to get better. It's only going to get worse. So now I have to start making some calls and decisions about whether or not I should have surgery and blah blah.
Only old people get orthopedic surgery.
Obviously I realize I'm not old. But that's just how I feel right now. It's [almost] my birthday. I can say what I wanna.
It freaks me out that time can never be made up, it's always going, you can't stop moments, you can't speed them up. Every second that passes is another closer to death, to missing out on something.
Another birthday is another, even more intense reminder of time. I'm not planning on checking out anytime soon, but still. One day I'm going to die and everytime I hear "Happy Birthday!" my morbid ass is reminded of that.
This is also the first birthday (of several to come, I'm sure) where there is absolutely nothing to gain from getting older. 18, 19, 20, 21 (obviously), 22... There was something in it for me in accomplishing those landmarks. Now it's just 23. Meh.
And then the questions start coming like "Do you think you and Jonathan are going to get married anytime soon?" Yes I was actually asked that. (For the record, NO, we're not getting married anytime in the near future. I've got issues with the idea of being married to someone without being fabulously wealthy first.)
That's a question you ask someone who is old.
And then my shoulder was acting up (when is it ever not?) last night and for the first time since my injury almost seven years ago, I realized that it's never going to get better. It's only going to get worse. So now I have to start making some calls and decisions about whether or not I should have surgery and blah blah.
Only old people get orthopedic surgery.
Obviously I realize I'm not old. But that's just how I feel right now. It's [almost] my birthday. I can say what I wanna.