Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The unmaking of the birthday girl
I had formed the nasty habit of staying up late and waking up early ever since the long holiday during the Christmas season. It's not like I don't try sleeping early, I just can't. I would toss and turn in my bed until one in the morning and then realize it's one in the morning and I am wide awake.
This is usually the time when I know it's another lost battle and I would have to do something else besides wooing Hypnos to come to me. I end up cleaning my room, clearing out my closet, texting my nocturnal friends and doing other boring stuff while everybody in the house lay sleeping.
Three nights ago, when I conceded to another lost battle, I decided to make a scrapbook for a friend who will celebrate her birthday this week. It's an overdue gift that I've been meaning to make for her since college but never did.
We only have one month difference so I know that on her birthday her age will catch up with mine. Yet, despite knowing this fact, I came up blank when I was calculating her age.
When I couldn't seem to figure out what it is, I used a calculator. When I got the answer, I thought that there was something wrong with my formula. I counted off the years using my fingers. When I came up with the same answer, I thought I really suck in Math. I used a paper to calculate again.
I wanted the answer badly that I felt panic and desperation creeping in. How can someone forget how old she is?
I fell asleep with the fear of not knowing how old I really am.
***When I woke up, my boyfriend replied to my queries and told me that I was 19.
***It suddenly made sense to me. I am stuck at 26.
I made an unconscious decision to stay with that age.
I did not plan anything special on my birthday last month. I would've stayed the whole day holed up in my house if Pat did not coax me to go out. Or maybe if I did go out, I would've watched a movie on my own, went to a spa and shopped to forget and not to celebrate.
Heck, if my friends did not even threw me a surprise party I would not even consider meeting up with them. My own mother forgot it was my birthday that day.
I wanted the day to be uneventful as possible so that I will never, ever have to grow old.
***Now, I have a theory.
Everybody has a perfect age. It's the age when they are most beautiful, most loving and loved, most successful and idealistic, most perfect.
It's an age that you want to live forever on. But since it's not possible, you spend the rest of your life remembering, working for another year that would come close to it. It becomes your ideal, the basis for perfection.
I think 26, so far, is my perfect age.
Until something better comes along, I will be 26 years old to those who want to know.
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