Happy Birthday...

...to me!

Yes, it's my birthday today. Yes, I've turned another year older. 25, to be precise... So that means, I've already lived more than a quarter of my life! Ouch!

So what is it that makes me want this day to be magical? Its just another day, isn't it? What's the big deal about having lived for one more year? Or is it about having survived one more year? What difference does it make anyway, whether its 14th March, or 15th march or 16th march?

I don't really know. But there's something... something that makes me expect something extraordinary today. For no reason other than that its my birthday today.

Every year, I wonder what is going to happen on my birthday. I wait for it almost like a ten year old does. Will there be any surprises? Will I get any special treats? Will someone send me flowers? Will there be a party? I scarcely admit all of this to myself, but I know I wait for something magical to happen every year. Something that will make me feel like a princess (sic)!

Of course, as the years pass, and I see more and more birthdays, my expectations go lower and lower... but my hopes don't. Only my way of admitting those hopes changes. Earlier, I'd honestly hope for a surprise party, or a gift that I'd waited for a long time, or a home delivered bouquet of flowers... anything - anything out of the ordinary. Now, I tell myself not to. But of course, I still do! And when nothing as big as what I'd want happens, somewhere inside I feel like a complete idiot for having waited so eagerly.

The whole things is quite idiotic, of course. By any standards, I always have a good birthday. I'm usually at home with my parents, or with close friends. There's generally a small party, and of course there are gifts.. and those who are not with me call me up. And like every year, that is how it was today also. It's been a good day.

But I'm still waiting.... maybe next year...?