Pre Birthday Depressive Syndrome. PBDS. Something I go through every year.
Birthdays both excite and depress me.
The child in me is excited with all the attention I will get.
The adult will ask me "So Sravanthi...You are 22 now. What have you done with your life?".
I have no answers. None that will entirely satisfy my rational mind atleast. When I was younger it used to be something like learning to tie my shoe laces or learning to iron my own uniform. Now my mind looks for bigger things. Which I don't find. *sigh*
And 22 is OLD!!!! 21 is a nice age. The young-hot-blooded-passionate-take over and change the world type of age. At a few days before I turn 22 I feel more sober already. Like I have to be more responsible. Like I have to choose wisely. Like I have to tread carefully henceforth.
In the logical sense it shouldn't matter this much you know. What is a birthday after all? Just an acknowledgement of another year gone. Just another day. A day can't make you change. A day can't sober you up. Numbers don't matter. 22 is just another random number. It is. It is. It is. There. I have said it now. If only I can believe it.
Damn.
