It's my birthday, how many subs can I make for you?

Today was my nineteenth birthday.
It was also the worst birthday I've ever had.
No, it wasn't awful and nothing particularly bad happened, but compared to past birthdays, today wasn't like the others -- its wasn't special.

I got up at 5am, worked at Subway for 9 hours, went out to dinner at a sketchy Mexican restaurant, and got ice cream with a couple friends.

There were no candles, no gifts, no eternal feeling that today is my birthday.

I guess this is what it's like to be an adult. Many of your friends forget to wish you a happy birthday; no one bothers to give you a card; you get up early, you work, you do chores. The sparkle that normally comes with the day of your birth is simply gone.

It's the same as any other day.

There was no build-up beforehand. No anticipation. Just the cold realization that life isn't the same.

For one day I just wanted to be special. Is that too much to ask for?

***

So I wrote the above portion yesterday when I was in a particularly self-obsessed, self-hating mood (surprise, surprise).  My birthday actually ended pretty well in that cheesy, all-together-with-friends-and-family way.

Some highlights:

• A girl at Subway told me my "smile is contagious."
• A good friend of mine dropped off a Disney princess themed Build-A-Bear on my doorstep. 
• Two of my other friends came over with another Disney-themed gift.
• I had the best brownie hot fudge sundae at my favorite ice cream place.

~and the world is beautiful again~

On Repeat: "Owner of a Lonely Heart" - Yes
Currently Reading: Dreams of Significant Girls by Cristina Garcia (I promise it's not about lesbians)
Days until Colorado: 30
Days until California: 72
Days until I  no longer have to work at Subway: 91