I debated and went back and forth over and over whether or not to write a blog on my birthday about my birthday.
I tried to be really low key this year, and not point out that I was having a birthday soon every chance I got. I didn’t talk about all the things I wanted, or count down the days. I simply waited for it to arrive.
Now, it’s here! I’m 27 years old today. 27 years young. Twenty seven.
I don’t know what to say from here. I don’t feel twenty-seven. I don’t know how old I feel. I remember twenty-two being a good year. But emotionally, psychologically I guess… sometimes I feel forty.
No plans today but to hang out with my boy, spend some time with some girls that I love, and maybe dinner and a movie tonight. (We got an AWESOME sitter coming.) Plans we had made earlier in the week fell through because of a sickness, but that’s okay too. We always make up for it.
Happy Birthday, Me! It’s gonna be a good day. It’s gonna be a good year.
