I can’t believe I’m twenty-four today.  It’s so surreal because in some ways I don’t feel like I should be this old.  I basically have the social skills and intellect of a twelve-year-old and yet my soul feels quite elderly.  I guess you can say that’s a lot of inner conflict.  And how will I be celebrating the day of my birth?  Will I be out partying with friends?  No.  Will I go out shopping or play video games all day?  Nope.  Will I even get to drown my sorrows in birthday cake?  Nada.  I’ll be sleeping in until I have to get up and work a terrible job that is slowly sucking away what’s left of my soul.  Then I’ll go home and be so exhausted that I’ll go straight to bed.  I won’t even have any time to enjoy the day that is supposed to be all about me.  It won’t be about me at all.  It’ll just be about trying to make it through another crappy day.

Looking back on birthdays, the one thing that really makes me bitter is realizing another year has slipped by and I have nothing to show for it. Time might as well have stopped for all the progress I made over the course of this past year.  Yeah, I graduated from college but who cares.  All I have to show for it is a one hundred thousand dollar diploma, a dead-end job and the arrival of student loans that I’ll most likely have to pay for the rest of my life.  Other than that, I haven’t forged any new relationships or even made any progress with myself or my writing.  I’m basically a loser and as if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m an old loser.  Oh, how I told myself things would be different, while all along I nestled myself into a niche time after time.  I searched, wandered, grasped for any kind of change, some sort of improvement that I could be proud of but I can find none.  How is it possible that I can be so stagnant?  I think the saddest part of all is the fact that I go through this same thought process year after year.

We are in a race against time every day. When we are young and strong, it’s easy to get far ahead of time. And until it catches up with us, we have the opportunity to be unproductive and frivolous. But, time eventually catches up and the race is on again. And the older we get, the slower we become. Our legs get weak and our breath becomes shallow while time never ages, skips or falters.  It smoothly sneaks up on us and slices at our heels until we heel to its inevitability. And in those moments, we don’t have the same amount of reprieve as we did before. So, we have to make every moment count.  The problem lies in when we don’t make those moments count, when we get so distracted and so far behind that we end up spending so much of our energy just trying to catch up that we can never get ahead or prosper.  And in my case, I feel like I’ve been left far, far behind. I’ve spent so much of my time being sedentary that I’ve stifled any chance of being productive. I look back on the year and then I look down on myself for slipping up by letting time slip by without grabbing it by the throat and making it work for me. There’s so much that I wanted to accomplish, so much that I wanted to be. I should have written that book, lost that weight, kissed that girl, dedicated myself more, procrastinated less and overall made some strides in life.  I had a whole year ahead of me to be the kind of person I knew I wanted to be, knew I could be but I simply didn’t. I look back and lament the lost time that I should have used productively but instead spent wasting away in decadence.

Birthdays used to be fun. But, that fun is fleeting the further along in age you become. I remember the whole month of December being built up around my birthday. I remember the anticipation, the excitement, the thrill of my special day. I remember being showered with attention on that day. And I remember the intensity of all that excitement dissipating a little bit more every year, like the draining of a tub. The attention was so nice, especially because I didn’t really crave it any other time. Being the fat kid, I pretty much wanted to blend in with the crowd. I didn’t want anyone to notice me because I felt I wasn’t worthy enough to be noticed, not attractive enough to be seen. But, birthdays were different. Birthdays were safe. When people acknowledged me on my birthday, it was the good kind of attention they gave me. And as much as I felt I didn’t need it, I admit I enjoyed that acknowledgment on those days. It was the one time in my life when I didn’t feel gross or bad about myself. I felt special, cared for. And what once was my only source of positive attention has slowly slipped away over the years. Less importance has been placed on my birthday and I get fewer and fewer calls and birthday wishes.  I’m missing that attention.

Everyone deserves to feel special, even if only for one day. And I guess I don’t feel I have that anymore. When people wish me a happy birthday, I almost feel they simply say it out of obligation.  It’s customary but is it sincere? Does anyone really take into consideration what they are wishing me?  We aren’t actually celebrating the person, but the day they were born. We are recognizing the event that allowed these precious people to come into our lives and when you think about that, it’s actually quite an honor to be wished a happy birthday.  People actually care that we’re here and alive and with them. We are commemorating conception.  But, do these people really care that I was born?  Have I had any kind of impact on their lives at all?  No, I really don’t think so.  In fact, there are some days that I feel so disconnected from people, from the world, that I think if I were to evaporate on the spot, my dissolution would cause nothing more than the tiniest ripple in the lives of others, kind of like a fart bubble in that same draining tub.

My birthday is a fickle whore.  She comes around once a year just to remind me of how lame and old I am and then she skips town again, leaving me longing for something more.  She doesn’t even bother to soothe her snide comments with a little gift.  Well, I’m tired of putting up with her temperament so I’m breaking up with her.  She’s no longer invited into my life to age and scold me.  She got away with it this year but, really, no one should have to feel like a failure on their birthday.  While I’m taking my frustrations out on my birthday and kicking her out of my life, I know I’m really to blame.  But, just to make me feel better, at least for today, my “special” day, I’ll point the finger at someone else.  So, until further notice I will no longer recognize my birthday.  I will remain twenty-four until I can get my life in order, until I can do something significant with my art and my writing, until I can find some semblance of satisfaction in my life.  The problem is in getting off my lame and lazy tuckus and actually making a change.

I have a bad feeling I’m going to be twenty-four forever.

Written by Brannon Jackson

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, Phase 2 Studio or the clients of Phase 2 Studio. Phase 2 Studio makes no representation concerning and does not guarantee the source, originality, accuracy, completeness or reliability of any statement, information, data, finding, interpretation, advice, opinion, or view presented.