Yep. Here we are.

I think now I remember why I don't celebrate my birthday.

It's always been too much of a hassle for me.

When I was young, back in the day, I used to enjoy having birthday parties and try to figure out what my friends would get me for my presents.

But then, as I grew up, I started having less and less parties. When my parents asked me what I wanted, I would usually just ask them to cook a favourite dish or two for dinner, and that would be it.

When I moved out on my own and I was flatting with other people, again, I would decline big celebrations and just accept "thanks" and prepared morning tea for the staff that I was working with. Nothing major, mind you. I would then go home, pig out on junk food and play computer games.

Quiet celebrations usually worked well for me. Especially with ones where I end up having existential crises and wondering when Life passed me by.

Today's birthday celebrations went okay, I think. Dinner with colleagues, along with a celebratory cake. Leave from work for a week.

But little things crop up, as per usual, and like flies, it made things not as good.

Made me remember why I've always made my birthday celebration a solitary one.

Next year, remind me that I should disappear for a day and reappear the next day, safe, sound, and sane.

Happy 26th Birthday, me. You ole' ugly piece of work.