Fiction. Based on a True Day I Wish I Could Skip.
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
My birthday is coming up. I’m turning one year older. Yet, it feels like maybe twenty more years older. Age is such a weird concept. Sometimes I feel like I’m still a teen and sometimes I feel like I’m 60 years old. Why is that? Why can’t one just say “I feel fifteen today.”
I don’t want to grow up. Everything just gets harder and heavier. I don’t know how much I can handle, honestly. The cycle of life can’t be stopped though, and pretty soon being twenty-five will seem so much better than it currently is. Pretty soon, I will feel every little physical pain in my body; even though I’m starting to feel them now, they’re going to get worse. My problems will only get bigger and worse.
Everyone wants to celebrate birthdays but I just want to stay in bed. When I was little I wanted everything; the huge party, the big cake, all the gifts in the world, and lots of family and friends around me. It’s weird how growing up made me want less and less. Nothing sounds more appealing than doing absolutely nothing on my birthday.
In fact, the praise should go to my parents. They were the ones that were hours in the hospital waiting for my arrival, they were the ones that took care of me all these years, they are the ones that made me who I am. They should get the party, the cake, and the gifts for putting up with me all these years.
Many people still see me as starting my life, but I feel like I’m just stuck. Yes, being twenty-five is still young but, shouldn’t I be doing something already? Shouldn’t I have at least a plan of what I want for myself? I have nothing though. I have no clue what I’m doing with my life. I thought that by now, at this age, I’d have it under control. But every day it just spirals a little more. People my age have already started moving and living by themselves, starting making credits, getting their money’s worth, and so on. I’m getting a little more lost. I don’t want to celebrate that. What am I supposed to celebrate this year? The fact that I don’t have a paying job? The fact that I’m still single? The fact that I’m still trying to find my place on this earth? All I have are questions and more questions. Doubts. Fear. I’m scared of what more life can throw at me?
All I know is that I’m getting older and I can’t keep wasting my time with insecure people and an insecure mind. I have to get my mind straight. Who do I want to be? A lost twenty-five-year-old or twenty-five-year-old that is fighting for herself? Definitely the latter. My age is just a number, it does not define me.
So here’s to 25. I hope I have 25 blessings, hopefully, more. Here’s to celebrating me and my accomplishments. Because you know what? I’ve been through some dark stuff in my 25 years and I’m still fighting. I’ll celebrate that!