Go shorty, it’s your birthday!
Genuinely, my plan for today was to buy junk, wear comfortable clothes and wallow in the existential crises that accompany birthdays while dwelling on the futility of existence. Now I’m writing this not because I particularly want to, but because I need an outlet for the anxiety I currently feel.
I don’t know if there’s anything like good anxiety but if there is, I think that’s how I feel right now. It’s weird how everybody is being so nice, how my phone is blowing up and how there is a very embarrassing video of my reaction to a surprise cake on Obasanjo’s internet. Like I tweeted, I don’t know what to do with it. The thought of driving a knife through it is elevating my restlessness. I put it in my fridge and since then, all I’ve done is open the fridge, stare at it for a moment and close the fridge.
Maybe bakers should not be making cakes so pretty so that such issues don’t come up. I love cake, but I also love pretty things. As you can see, it is a conundrum.
One of the things that made me particularly dread today was the thought of becoming ordinary. I feel like as you get older, some things just become expected. People no longer get wide-eyed when you tell them your age and everything you do is seen as what should be done. It’s rather jarring to think about. However, I have cake and Berry Blast, so I shall not be thinking about it today. Maybe tomorrow.
I’ve gotten gifts, wishes, prayers…the works. This must be how Beyoncé feels wow. Don’t get me wrong, my cynicism hasn’t suddenly disappeared. It’s just been pushed to the back burner by excitement and well…anxiety. Tomorrow, we move.
Regardless, I owe everyone who took time out to say happy birthday, send me money for birthday rice (though we both know it’s stir-fried spaghetti I will spend it on), elevate my blood pressure with multiple surprises and massage my ego with compliments and gifts a very big thank you. Today’s barely over but it’s been so much (in a good way). You people say I’m annoying but apparently, you mostly don’t mind.
You made a bad bitch cry.