Birthday girl

A week ago I turned 26. It was one of the more depressing birthdays, not only because I didn’t celebrate it the way I might have wanted to but also because I reached an age when I realised for the first time in life that I can not consider myself very young anymore. I am after all closer to thirty than twenty. Plus I am no longer eligible for the young person’s travelcard! Now that is depressing 🙂

Birthdays together with New Years Eves are probably the only two days out of 365 when most of us ponder over the past year’s achievements, failures, strokes of luck, misfortunes… Those more lucky ones, who had been born on December 31, or January 1, can be really grateful to be spared of one dreadful day in addition. Both days strike me as very contradictory and confusing. On one hand you HAVE TO have fun “because it’s your birthday“, or “because it’s NYE“ but on the other hand these are the days that certainly carry a sort of DEPRESSING message. On your birthday you start to feel a year older and especially when turning 20, 30, 40, and all those round numbers, you feel like a decade passed you by and all plans you had for those past 10 years which were never done or fulfilled are the proofs of your failure. You are fully aware you will never be younger than you are now and all of a sudden all the wasted days, meaningless hours, unproductive minutes pop out in your mind transforming into a big creepy mouth laughing at you. It is the same with the New Year’s resolutions that you forget about on the second of January but come nastily back to you when the year is over to remind you how weak your power of will is.

Pure misery. And you are supposed to have fun? I don’t see how that’s supposed to be fun. But that’s just me. Don’t take me too seriously, in fact I love those days. Like I love sarcasm 😉


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