Birthdays are always weird and slightly depressing. Especially if you remember how terrible last year's birthday was, and therefore you try your very hardest to make this years as much unlike last year's as possible. And then you're successful, but the general rule is, that if you had a great birthday last year, the next one will be shit. This year's the shit year, so my only consolation is that next year's will have to be amazing. Because otherwise that's not fair to have two bad birthdays in a row..........
Birthdays also mean that you're growing older, and I don't particularly want to grow older, because it takes too long, and then afterwards it feels like it goes too fast. And anyway, they only like you when you're seventeen; when you're twenty one, you're no fun, according to Ladytron. So.. in another three years, my life will have finished its course and will completely lack meaning....
What else to complain about? Oh yeah, seventeen is the nothing year. Sweet sixteen is nice, because it means wahey, you're half way through teenagehood, and eighteen is nice, because it's a giant milestone and everything, but then seventeen is just like the weird No Man's Land/ purgatory/waiting room place in between. Eurgh.
Also, another bad thing about seventeen: for cats, seventeen is about eighty in human years. This may be my last blog. Hum.
CAT.
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