twenty

twenty sounds far too adult for somebody who still steals perfume from her mother. #

Twenty. No. I object. Nineteen was a perfectly good age and I see no reason why we needed to replace it. Twenty sounds like somebody should hand me paperwork and ask about long term financial planning. Instead I spent my birthday by the sea, got messages all day, talked to Mom, Dad, Tia, Hikari, everyone, and opened presents like a completely functioning adult. Yuri called me `”my twenty year old Bambolina”` and I told him never to phrase it that way again because it makes me sound like a collectible doll with an age range printed on the box.

I don’t feel different. This is the disappointing secret of birthdays after childhood. You expect some internal click and instead you’re the same person who went to sleep the night before, except people keep reminding you about a number. I’m still blonde, still pink, still obsessed with music, still capable of arguing about HTML for far too long, still unsure what adulthood is supposed to look like. Maybe this is it. Maybe adults are just people who continue feeling approximately seventeen internally while becoming increasingly good at pretending they understand paperwork.

Tonight we’re going out. Obviously. I have a new pink dress, Angel, silver earrings and no intention of behaving twenty.

Remember me, Eclipse.