My last good birthday was when I turned 17. I felt like I was on top of the world, at the doorstep of adulthood; everything was bright and amazing and full of possibilities. I had a party and a big cake and friends and gifts, and I thought it was going to be the start of a great adventure. Yeah right. Biggest let-down of a lifetime.
Now I’m an adult, and every birthday is just the celebration of another year in which I have again done nothing noteworthy with my life. I’m already melancholic now, 2 weeks in advance, because based on statistics of previous birthdays, this is going to happen:
Things that generally happen on my birthday
- Being all alone during the day because everyone has to work/go to hobbies/see friends… except for me.
- Awkward gift from my parents that proves how out-of-touch they are with me.
- Nothing interesting at all.
- Awkwardly forced cheerfulness when cake is served in the evening.
- Scrolling through old friends’ FB pages and realizing that I’m the only one who isn’t traveling the world, going on exchanges, attending concerts, raving the night away, etcetera.
- A pity party for one. It potentially includes crying, lying on a ball on my bed, and wallowing in self-loathing. Also, passive aggressive tweets about how my life sucks and I hate everyone.
- Clicking from site to site and hoping someone online remembered it’s my birthday.
- Inspecting my reflection for signs of permanent frown lines and eye wrinkles.
- Checking my phone for texts of someone who remembered it’s my birthday.
- Being pathetically lonely.
- Pondering how all my opportunities are fading with the years and how I will soon be 45 and not have done anything worth mentioning.
Do I sound like the Birthday Grinch yet?