16 February 2019

24.


For the first time, on the 4th of February, my birthday, I woke with the strange feeling that it was just another normal day. And that worried me.

Ever since I can remember, I would wake up in the morning thinking it was indeed my birthday. Even if I was away on a fun trip or even if I was about to go to school for an exam, my mind knew that it was a special day in spite of the circumstances.

The day I turned 24 it felt like nothing had changed. Like time stopped. I didn't feel older or celebratory. I felt... normal. And I hated it.

I remember being a kid and organizing my birthday parties one month ahead. Making the guests list, getting a venue (it went from my bedroom to a bounce house, to a limo and a restaurant), making up activities (once I had a masquerade contest), creating the invites on my computer (yes, I was 9 when I sketched my first invitation). All of that process got me worked up for my birthday (or the party).

This year, at the last minute, my mom and I booked a spa day. My wish was to travel since I loved spending my 22nd birthday in London with my friends, but I felt like having a special day with my mom would be lovely for her as well. And don't get me wrong, it was indeed lovely. We got a back massage and body exfoliation, we went to the sauna and to the heated pool and had brunch at one of my favorite new places in Lisbon — Café Janis. Though it didn't feel like an extraordinary day.

I'm getting older. And the magic of this day is fading away. And that makes me afraid that everything I'm living is not new and impressionable. And that's sad.

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