On November 1, 2023, I will be crying.
Just like I have on November 1st in 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, and… you get the gist.
Birthdays are special days, and serve as reminders of reflecting on the years before and ahead. People feel joyous on birthdays, and celebrate in positive manners. Some for a day, some for a week, some for even a month.
I hate birthdays. Well hold up, I don’t hate everyone elses’ birthdays. I just hate mine. I hate my birthday because I hate growing up. Always have and, 99% certain that I, always will.
I’m not good with the ‘growing up’ stuff. I still have to Google which side the stamp goes when mailing envelopes, order sprinkles on my ice cream and cannot resist buying the little washcloths that expand with water.
Birthdays are sad days, and to me, serve as reminders that I’m another year older. Aside from my birthdays, I also cry on big life milestones. I balled after receiving my license, graduating high school and even touring colleges.
On April 30, 2022, I will be crying.
I will be graduating from Ohio University and everything I’ve known to be true will be a distant daydream. But to me, it’s more than that, it’s closing out my preschool, kindergarten, elementary, middle and high school years. College graduation is, for many of us, the end to our education.