A Birthday Announcement (with very bad language).
I’m 63 today.
HOW did that happen?
I used to love getting older.
When I was 10 my best friend’s mother said: “You must be so excited to be 10!”
I thought for a moment and replied with something which surprised me: “Well, I’d rather be 40.”
She gasped, and furiously told me how these were the best years of my life.
This scared me. THIS was the best? I’d spent much of my first ten years (and later years) being physically, verbally, and sexually abused. THIS was the best?
In my mind, being 40 seemed like an age when, perhaps, I would have finally gotten far far away from all the abuse. So, each passing year made me happy. I was suddenly 20! Suddenly 25! Then 30! Squee! Then — at last! at last! — 40! And, the funny thing is that my life DID get much better after 40! Much, much better!
Then 41, 42….46! With each year I was happy to grow older.
Then I hit 47. Oh, that hit hard. To my shock, I didn’t want to be 47. 46 was fine! Let’s just stop there! Then 48, 49, and with each passing year I grumbled ever more.
So, happy the fuck birthday to me. I rushed as fast as I could through my youth and, now, what I wouldn’t give to be 20 again. Well, the body at least, not the mind! I love my old mind!
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