That's what she said. I'm kidding. Let’s travel back in time twenty-two years. This specific night is so dark that it seems like all light has been sucked out of the atmosphere; the sky isn’t even displaying its usual splendor of tiny, bright lights, for a thick veil of fluffy clouds masks the presence of the distant beauty. Nothing is allowed to brighten this dark and abysmal existence. It’s a Friday. It is the thirteenth of the darkest, most dreary month—November. Friday the thirteenth of November, 1992; this is the day Patrick Hall was born.
I think that’s an interesting piece of trivia about me: born on Friday the thirteenth. I suppose it isn’t extremely rare, but superstitious people should beware of my evil magic! Superstition is silly, though. Why would the number thirteen be unlucky? What or who would cause thirteen to be unlucky? On the other hand, I can’t say I’ve had much luck in my life; it’s my brother who’s been the lucky one, like when we played Mario Kart for Nintendo 64 and he ALWAYS got the lightning attack and zapped me and my other, oldest brother.
Anyway, what’s the point of this blog post? Am I arguing against superstition? No, I just took a brief moment to ridicule it. Am I looking for attention because it is, indeed, my birthday today? No, I don’t care. And that’s what this blog post is about: I just don’t care anymore. I don’t care about my birthday; I just don’t feel it anymore. Birthdays feel like any ordinary day.
Birthdays always mattered so much when you were little. You looked forward to your birthday so much you couldn't sleep weeks prior to it and the actual day was just amazing, with candy and cake and presents and… something more, right? It feels like I’m forgetting something. Oh, right: family and friends who could give you candy and cake and presents.
As an adult, I don’t understand why one looked forward to it so much. Of course it is nice to have a get-together for friends and family. And who doesn’t like opening presents? But that super-fantastic feeling of magic and wonder has been completely stripped away from my birthday experience. It’s a little bit sad, but adult birthdays are like any other day, except your net worth increases with a couple shirts and some pants. If you're lucky, some people might call you or write on your Facebook wall.