One Should Never Trust A Woman Who Tells One Her Real Age (You Go Oscar Wilde!)

Apparently, dark and murky staircases are a really good place to process thoughts into word sequences that barely manage to make sense.

My birthday was yesterday and it made me rather uncomfortable.

Everyone says they don’t feel any different when asked, “How does it feel?” and I've been pulling that card too so it can just end there but in actual sense, I do feel different.

I feel sad. Not normal blog post sad; I mean down in the fucking doldrums sad.

I've never appreciated my youth and I know that’s never going to change for me. Until I’m about 25, I’ll always feel older than I actually am & hate every goddamn minute of it.

I blame my education. I've always been a steady 2 years younger than everyone in my class & instead of being proud of trumping all these old fucks & wearing it like a medal, it embarrassed me.

So I hide.I lie. I omit.

Because you couldn't say PATRONIZING fast enough. Have you ever been patronized? I can act like I don’t give a shit but it gets to me and boy, does it get to me deep.

So I've been hiding from that every day since I was 13. A little 12 month tweak never hurt anyone, now did it?

But I’m tired. I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of calculating the math in my head during conversations to see how old I “was” in that year (and I’m really bad at math). I’m just tired.

So I’m gonna tell the truth for a while now and see how that feels as a skin. Wish me luck.

I know I still haven’t mentioned how old I am which shows how I am yet to come to terms with it (Now I know how Blanche from Golden Girls feels) but hey...baby steps.