The woe's of getting older.

My birthday is next week. On Wednesday, to be exact (just so you don't have to get a calendar, it's the 19th of August). I remember when I used to LOVE my birthday. I couldn't wait to be another year older. It was something I looked forward to all year long. When February 19th rolled around, I made sure to tell everyone that I was "(my age) and a half". Come May 19th, I was "(my age) and 3 quarters". Now...I start telling people my real age. No half's, no 3 quarters. Just my age. However, the other day someone said, "How old ARE you, Ash? You seriously couldn't be older than 24, right?" Aw, shucks. Thanks. But, no. What was my response? "Haha, funny. No, I'm 29." TWENTY-NINE??? HELLOOOO SELF??? I'm 28...TWENTY-EIGHT for at least another week and a half!!! I think my subconscious is taking over. I think I'm trying to get used to the idea that I'm not 23 anymore...although, I am celebrating the 6th anniversary of my 23rd birthday next week. What's even MORE frightening, is that in a year from now (which a year is now a very short amount of time...) I'll be turning 30. ....30..... hmm. Yeah, the thought of that makes my stomach churn and I get this overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia like I was in a 2ft-by-2ft box, sealed up tight with super glue and duct tape. ...maybe even wrapped in cellophane after that, tarred even.

You get the picture. I don't like my birthday anymore.