I’ve been moody the past couple of days. Not moody sad, just brooding really. Its something that happens some days to my birthday which I’ll usually snap out of the day before but till then, i bask in nostalgia. I found an old diary and it kind of explains my entire feeling at the moment. So i used google speak now to read out the post. Here it is pro bono:
it’s my birthday in a sneeze and a cough (8 days). Over the years I have grown more and more uncomfortable with growing older. Not necessarily the older part, Just the time passing part. It’s like working happily and then hearing an alarm, looking at your clock with an oh-my-God-where-has-the-time-gone and you’ve barely done anything at all… That’s the feeling
Indeed where have the years gone? 25.
I don’t feel 25
I feel 22. At twenty five, I’m not meant to feel still be shacking up with my parents. I’m meant to be shacked in a squashed mini-apartments my parents disapprove of, with a roommate who is messier than I. I’m meant to have a comfortable income or at least a livable one. I’m meant to have an overenthusiastic dog who believes the happiness of her life is in My DNA.
Birthdays are worse than the New Year. New Year doesn’t creep up on you. You can smell New Year from a week before Christmas.
Not really. You are just Dilly dallying on your own and the your friends start asking:
What are you doing for your birthday
Is next month right? What day again?
What are you wearing?
And I am just trying to sit really still till the day comes and goes.
(P.s it’s actually 26)