I’m not looking forward to meetings you. 24 ended on a sticky note. I had people tell me stuff like, “I have other priorities and I can’t talk to you. What do you even expect from me?”
This from friends.
24, you never told me friends came with conditions apply* and that you had to be prepared to be dropped without warning, right out of the blue. You never told me, not until that last minute.
24, you never told me nothing stays forever until my life was half over.
So no, I’m not looking forward to 25. I will have a quiet day, like the rest of my days, no birthday cards, no calls. The way I like it.
I remember how I got an orange wrapped in bubble wrap on one of my birthdays and I let people laugh at me because hey, who gets bubble wrapped oranges for their birthday, right? Maybe I should have been grateful and said thank you.
24 years of regret. Nothing good ever came out of it. I loathe birthdays.
I remember getting excited about birthdays but now it feels like a bad omen.
I wish you hadn’t shown up. I hate having to meet you in less than four hours. I wish you’d stayed away, 25.