Birthdays, Growing Older and a Thank You

Author's Note: Before I begin, I would like to thank Jade! Don't worry about being broke; this gift is awesome ;)

Also, thanks to anyone who clicked the link and gave this blog a try. Hope I don't disappoint anyone and please keep the comments flowing!

They come once a year in the form of a much needed break from reality. Of course, it only marks an anniversary They are supposed to be on one day but, if I'm honest, my family happens to celebrate them on several different occasions. It is typically celebrated with cake, presents and sometimes a party.

Today, I turned fifteen. I recognize that this particular birthday was acknowledged not only by people I know but people I don't know. I suppose I've pimped it out enough but I can't help but think about the philosophical implications.

Most of the time, my actual birthday is separate from all of the fanfare that accompanies it. Usually, it happens to be during a school day so I have to be there anyway. The actual birthday is so mundane for me that I often even forget that it's my birthday throughout the course of the day (as I did today, I admit). It's not like I really got any breaks or anything special (except even more homework than usual, of course).

I find it so strange, birthdays. Anyway it's not like there's this glow or anything but it just feels like any other day. When I was younger, they made me leap out of bed but now that I'm older... I don't know. It's not like I'm an adult and hate turning older but they don't make me excited anymore. If anything, I feel scared thinking about them in depth.

It's that one special day, just for you, though. I remember one of my teachers who even said that your mothers should be the ones celebrating not you. Being born wasn't an accomplishment after all (of course, growing up as a poor farmer boy, I doubt he had the same birthday opportunities). Birthdays are just a way people say, "I'm glad you exist."

I'm fifteen. That's still not a lot, especially considering that a lot of people live to be a hundred now. It's still a lot older than it used to be.

Fifteen is only three years away from eighteen and only one year away from sixteen. When I'm eighteen, I'm legally responsible for myself and when I'm sixteen, I'm able to get a permit in the state of Pennsylvania.

When I was younger, I wanted to be an adult so badly that it wasn't even funny. I felt that no one took me seriously as a kid and I wasn't allowed to do anything. Each birthday I became older, and I was one step closer to becoming an adult. Still, adulthood seemed so far away so I never really handle it on my own.

I'm not an adult yet, but I'm not a kid anymore. Such is the usual dilemma of the adolescent.

The idea of growing older terrifies me. I don't know if I'll be able to handle college or driving or getting a job. I don't even know if I'll be able to do every day activities (I still can't cook yet). Worse yet, what if I end up being a failure? I know it's stupid to think about it already but it isn't that far off. It's nice to think that my writing will be my job and everything but that's completely unrealistic and I know that (the statistics are quite grim, even for writers who are good and have ambitions).

I know I shouldn't have such morbid thoughts on my birthday and that I should be happy. Still, I'm an anxious person and my birthday always makes me think such thoughts.

On the bright side, I am going out for Indian food later on with my mom. So I can put those kinds of thoughts on the shelf for now. I have so many things to celebrate in the present instead of worrying about the future.

I'm going to let my hair fly back and unwind for a bit. It is my birthday after all, so life can resume a bit later.