make a wish. pick a cheek.

I think birthdays suck because they always fall just short of what you thought they might be. Not only that, but every year, I go through this week-long denial phase where I tell myself that I will never grow up. After all, how exciting is moving on to a job, a nice car, new things, new bills, new responsibilities, more stupid people to deal with? Who doesn't want to stay young forever? Cliches are cliches because they are universally accepted truths. I just want to go back to the English countryside and be. Where there are no expectations for my future and for what I am supposed to conquer on my way to university-driven success. But my own expectations for myself have somehow aligned over the years with what others want from me. So even if I could escape for a year or two, I would never be able to resist the temptation to fall into patterns of stress and self-evaluation.

The other night, I was lying in bed reading my bullshit political science reader, but I somehow lost myself in thought of bedside tables and chai tea lattes. The subject matter isn't really too important. But I can't stop thinking lately. And I know that as I usher in a new year of my life, the thinking will only demand more of my time. So I suppose that I will dedicate this year of my life to self-improvement because it's all I'm going to think about anyway. I will be more assertive, think of better questions to ask my professors, and make everyone think that I am much much older than I actually am. Twenty-one perhaps?