My brother recently had his 9th birthday and he was more excited than he has ever been. But it begs the question, why do we get so excited over the date of our birth? I have lost the same enthusiasm for the party popper and balloons that used to invade my childhood. I now dread the fact that each passing day is another step closer to being a year older. Of course, there are some perks of being older; starting a family, being independent, but it’s hard to see past the reality that nothing will ever be as easy as it was when I was a child. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life at the moment (mainly because of a special person who has recently came into it) and I wouldn’t change anything; but there is always the feeling that I could have achieved so much more.
Who am I kidding, birthdays are for all ages, whether you’re 12, 60 or a 100 (seriously, 100, congratulations) but just make sure you don’t forget the streamers or card confetti.. Actually, forget the confetti, waste of time anyway. Along with every other post written by me, I try to pose a positive twist on the subject because who likes reading depressing posts hm? But yeah, I appreciate every like, comment, read or follow, despite how bad I am at keeping up with the blog. Thanks.