I was born May 5, 2003. This makes me (almost) 21 years old.
My birthday is usually accompanied by rain showers or blooming flowers, but no matter the weather forecast I can undoubtedly be seen sneezing up a storm. Because according to the allergy test I got last year, I am allergic to essentially everything that lives outdoors, making springtime my personal public enemy number one. In addition to sneezing, I can also most likely be found crying my eyes out.
Over Easter break, my parents and I were talking about upcoming birthdays, one being mine and the other being my dad’s. Despite the 30 year age difference, we both responded similarly: “I feel so old.”
I persisted to go on a tangent about aging, making a quick joke about whether or not I should add an anti-aging cream to my skincare routine. My mom laughed, then quickly responded with an unfortunate truth:
“Moira, you have been afraid of growing up your entire life.”
I know crying on your birthday is not just a me problem and is actually a universal experience for a lot of people, but it was interesting having my own mother say it out loud. I pondered the statement a lot, and looking back I don’t think I have ever gone through the fifth of May dry-eyed.
Some years, I have cried due to my expectations being too high, other times due to the overstimulation of being the center of attention at a party. But most times it has been because I have always been afraid to experience the very thing God has blessed me to do everyday: get older and experience life.
I am constantly looking back at the past and worrying about the future, ignoring the bliss that comes with enjoying the present. I have very vivid memories of being little and blowing out candles, wishing to stay that way forever. In my mind, growing up was never a luxury, but rather a death sentence. It was a sign of change, something I have yet to befriend. Loved ones would revolve the day around reminding me of everything I am while I sat there hyper-fixating on everything I am not.
Knowing this information, one would think I would learn to stop crying on my birthday, but knowing myself as well as I do there is a certainty that in a few short weeks that will happen anyway. While I might be a Taurus, headstrong and loyal, I still hold first place as the most sensitive person around.
On the Sunday before finals week, I can probably be seen throwing back (legal) shots of tequila with a plastic tiara on top of my head and confessing the love I have for everyone around me. And while I will probably still cry, I will be sure to make a toast to all of the versions of myself I have been and have yet to be. And I'll probably play some Adele, as she is my birthday twin.
Moira Quinn is a junior at Saint Mary's College studying communication. When she isn't writing for The Observer, she can be found with friends, watching a good romantic comedy or missing her basset hound.
