older, but no wiser… thank fuck!


by me.

That is an exchange I have been having around this time of year for the last 10 years. I had it this year again, and I’ll probably have it next year, and the year after that. I’ve tried to stop those conversations from happening by avoiding telling anyone when my birthday is. On the day I act especially anti-social so people avoid talking to me so they don’t bring up the fact that I’ve aged a year, and start asking stupid questions like, “So what are you doing to celebrate?”. My answer is always, “Nothing.”.
If you want to go around making a big fanfare of the fact that you ass is a year closer to senile dementia, adult diapers and not being able to chew steak then that’s your issue. I can see why it’s important to kids, because it’s still something new to them. The fact that they age a year, which to a little kid is just an unreasonably long period of time to wait to get more presents, there is an element of novelty to it. After a few years though, like you, it gets old. Adults that make a big stink about their birthdays just come off as narcissistic and desperate for attention. And if you allow other people to indulge in this pointless social tradition on your behalf, you just want to be centre of attention all the same. I can do without the spotlight on me for an entire day because I’ve reached a pointless milestone. So if I seem slightly cynical when I wish you a Happy Birthday, don’t take offence. I’m trying my hardest to be like the rest of your mates and act like I give a fuck. It’s not to say, if I know and like you, that I don’t appreciate your existence. I just don’t want to make it known, on a day that we should all actually be in mourning because a person we like is one step closer to death, that I’m glad you’re around.
Something I’ve noticed since I’ve reached that point in my twenties where I’m closer to 30 than not, birthdays become a day of weighting up your achievements thus far. It becomes a sort of “This is your life” type thing. As a consequence, if you’re honest with yourself, you become quite melancholy about it. Unless you’re one of those exceptional people who have actually achieved incredible things, you have nothing to be proud of and end up wanting to stay in bed and get drunk alone. Well at least that’s what I want to do. I’m actually writing this the day before the anniversary of my emergence in to this world, and tonight I will probably have to go out and attempt to celebrate with friends. I’m not particularly enthused. I will probably hate it actually because my well-meaning friends (bless them) will try to make something of it. I expect to be depressed by 8:00 and suicidal just after 12:00.


I was far from depressed by 8:00, in fact the fun was only beginning… By 12:00 the party was insane and was not going to stop until late that morning. I’m still recovering from a massive hangover left in the wake of a mad night out. I will say, that it had very little to do with the fact that it was my birthday, and all down to hanging out with complete and utter hedonists who have no idea what the meaning of excess is and simply see it as part of a good party. I’m now going to try to carefully piece together what happened, and hope I don’t stumble across anything too untoward. Wish me luck. Till next time…


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