I never really liked my birthday. As a child it was because I would build the day up in my head. I would get excited only to ultimately be let down when the only calls I got were from family and the only activities that occurred were watching TV. As I got older that resentment stayed. I would tell people I didn't want to do anything only because the idea of inviting people to celebrate not only seemed desperate but also left me open to more disappointment if they said no. I did start planning small celebrations for myself as an adult: horseback riding, painting, a shopping day, new movies. This helped not make the day of miserable but did nothing to stop the impending doom I felt leading up to it. However, in my adult life, there has been an observed shift in what the day means. As a child it was about celebrating me and who I am. As I got older if was about the things I would get to accomplish that year and how close I was to other milestones. But now? Now it is a reflection back on what I accomplished at my now previous age. When the list is short and insurmountable when compared to my peers, my disposition plummets. A birthday is now a reminder of the life I didn't live. Never again will I be that age and what did I do with it? A birthday is one of the only fresh starts within the year that can be counted (the others being New Years Day and the First day day of Summer). I am sure I will spend my next year on this planet exactly how I spent my last.