Birthday Blues
--
It’s my 26th Birthday. I feel so blah.
The biggest thing I can tell you by the time you reach 26 is that you get tired. I’m extremely tired. Tired of life. Tired of making money. Tired of the ever increasing responsibility. I want to go back to the early days where I could take long walks on the beach, sit and stare up at the setting sun, watch the clouds move. Drink a bottle of beer without feeling my age. Smoke an entire joint and hold my own. I haven’t done those things in years now.
And I’m just, so very tired.
I don’t want to create a listicle of 26 things I’ve learned over my years. I despise such writers. I don’t think I’ve learned much, anyway. How to tie my shoelaces, maybe. But I’m sure some YouTube-r can entertain you better and show you how it’s done. You won’t find any lessons here. Move along.
My immediate friends and family are excited. They are wishing me, asking me what I want and where I’d like to party. All I want to do is sit down with a couple of friends with whom I can share the silence, listen to music, laugh at an ancient joke, drink tea and do nothing.
Do nothing. Yeah. That’s what I want. Just one day, where I can sit, breathe, and do nothing. Be still. Is that too much to ask for?
There is such a social stigma attached to doing something on your birthday. Go out. Party. Do something big. Why do we need to do something? Why can’t I not do anything?
You know what, fuck it. I’m going to rebel (without a cause) and not do anything today. Stick it to the man, y’know.
Up yours, society!
For the readers who want to gain something from this piece, I have devised two rules in my 26 years of existence that I adhere to. Here they are:
- Never mess with the person cooking/bringing/in some way involved with your food.
- Never piss off the barber who is going to shave/trim your beard (he has a razor to your neck).
That’s all folks. I think I’m going to put my head down and disappear for a while.
