My twenty-second birthday is a week from Sunday. I don’t really care for my birthday very much. I haven’t had a birthday party since I turned thirteen, because I love parties, but not parties where I’m center-stage, you know? I like parties where I fetch people drinks and distribute generously-sized slabs of cake, and meet new people and get engrossed in conversations, parties where all the presents and attention are reserved for someone else. Even a party-free birthday can be an anxious experience for me. I feel like everyone’s happiness rests on the decisions I make—“It’s your birthday… what do you want to do?” I don’t know. Normal things, nothing special… what do you want to do?
But I do love that lilacs are always in full bloom on May 17.
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