Seventeen and it doesn't matter

I’M 17.

I have been for a full 30 hours.

Seventeen.

Seventeen and it doesn’t matter.

Yesterday was just another day, a birthday doesn’t entitle you to skip school without damaging your learning, a birthday doesn’t earn you instant respect and trust nor does it give you a sudden wave of understanding.

It’s just another day and turning 17 doesn’t change a thing except how you fill out any form asking how many years you’ve existed on this earth; congratulations, you went down a box.

Seventeen and it doesn’t matter, I don’t feel older or wiser, I just know I’m that one day closer to my inevitable end.

It’s not even a year closer. It’s a day because the day before my birthday I was 16, the hour before nine I was still 16 but when that clock hit 9am on the June 26, I was suddenly 17.

It was suddenly an achievement to be celebrated to live through that two seconds as the clocked change from 8.59 to nine.

Seventeen and it really doesn’t matter.

Why do we even celebrate birthdays?

Technically, a birthday is actually an anniversary of the day of your birth since no one can be literally born more than once.

A birthday just brings in many poorly shouted renditions of the “Happy Birthday” song where no one cares about pitch, tuning or notes as long as it’s loud.

A birthday just brings along an excuse to open presents.

A birthday just brings in the need to tolerate hugs from distant relatives you didn’t even know existed.

And once you pass 30 . . .

A birthday is just a sad reminder that you are old and your health and sanity is going to start slowly eluding you.

Birthdays.

Who needs them?

We do.

We need them because if not for ourselves to celebrate, at least our friends and families have an excuse to get together and enjoy life no matter how bad their own is.

We need birthdays to remind us it was a miracle we were born and that we are lucky for the life we’ve been given.

We need birthdays because why not?

Who doesn’t want to feel special for a day?

I’m 17.

I have been for a full 31 hours.

My birthday’s over but the memories are there.

Seventeen.

Seventeen and I matter.

I’M 17.

I have been for a full 30 hours.

Seventeen.

Seventeen and it doesn’t matter.

Yesterday was just another day, a birthday doesn’t entitle you to skip school without damaging your learning, a birthday doesn’t earn you instant respect and trust nor does it give you a sudden wave of understanding.

It’s just another day and turning 17 doesn’t change a thing except how you fill out any form asking how many years you’ve existed on this earth; congratulations, you went down a box.

Seventeen and it doesn’t matter, I don’t feel older or wiser, I just know I’m that one day closer to my inevitable end.

It’s not even a year closer. It’s a day because the day before my birthday I was 16, the hour before nine I was still 16 but when that clock hit 9am on the June 26, I was suddenly 17.

It was suddenly an achievement to be celebrated to live through that two seconds as the clocked change from 8.59 to nine.

Seventeen and it really doesn’t matter.

Why do we even celebrate birthdays?

Technically, a birthday is actually an anniversary of the day of your birth since no one can be literally born more than once.

A birthday just brings in many poorly shouted renditions of the “Happy Birthday” song where no one cares about pitch, tuning or notes as long as it’s loud.

A birthday just brings along an excuse to open presents.

A birthday just brings in the need to tolerate hugs from distant relatives you didn’t even know existed.

And once you pass 30 . . .

A birthday is just a sad reminder that you are old and your health and sanity is going to start slowly eluding you.

Birthdays.

Who needs them?

We do.

We need them because if not for ourselves to celebrate, at least our friends and families have an excuse to get together and enjoy life no matter how bad their own is.

We need birthdays to remind us it was a miracle we were born and that we are lucky for the life we’ve been given.

We need birthdays because why not?

Who doesn’t want to feel special for a day?

I’m 17.

I have been for a full 31 hours.

My birthday’s over but the memories are there.

Seventeen.

Seventeen and I matter.

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