It's the eve of my 22nd year of existence. I'm not saddened by all I have not accomplished Nor am I excited about all the I have yet to achieve All I can think about it now. I wait for a message from one person. I look for things to fill my lonely heart. I'm apathetic. My dear Uncle told me that 21 was really the last birthday that really mattered. and while sad, I know he's right. Gone are the days of huge parties, and massive amounts of cake you swear you are going to eat. That's good though right? That you look fondly back. I loved all my themed parties, and amazing cakes my mother made for me. I'm finally glad to call myself an adult. I realize that I am, and after so long trying to ignore it. I get it. You'll always want to be young again. Always want to go back in time and spend that last sweet moment of bliss. So tonight, I saw what was, and that I really needed to get over the fact that I can't go back in time. Birthdays, are just days where people tell you how much they love you and tell stores about when you were little. I like this. I really do.
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