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*Careless Whisper sax plays in the background* |
I spent my birthday at home with my mother scoffing down some takeaway pizza and carrot cake before I got mildly intoxicated on red wine and cried over Jake Gyllenhaal because how else should a girl spend a birthday?
I think I'll take this moment to confess that I'm not really a party-person, if it wasn't plainly obvious already. I found myself reading Dickens and chowing down on a bag of Werther's Original butterscotch candies the other day and I instantly felt like I'd aged a decade. That, paired with my sadly serious and sardonic persona, made me think that I'd be absolutely fine about turning nineteen. Alas, I wasn't. I was actually very scared of it.
Don't roll your eyes at me! I know what you're thinking 'Oh, god, she's going to dedicate 800 odd words to complaining about turning nineteen. We all age!' So, I'll keep the whining brief.
I was scared about turning nineteen because I'm still not sure how to properly adult. I'm still relying on the basis of pretending like I've got this whole life thing down and I know what I'm doing in order to get by. Also, I'm one of those people who is constantly anxious with many an innate fear. The list of things I'm scared of is ridiculous and ever-growing - more so as I get older. One of my main irrational fears is getting old and dying without leaving a mark on the world. You know, today it's nineteen and birthday cookies, but soon enough it'll be eighty and a zimmer frame.
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Kudos to my awesome mother for going all out with the decor! |
I owe a lot of my accomplishments to this blog, to all the people who have ever clicked on it and read it. I established this blog shortly after turning sixteen. I was naive, I didn't really know what blogging entailed. Yet, I knew I liked books and cinema and I wanted a space to freely rant and rave about them where I wouldn't be judged.

Thinking about all of that pulled me out of my blues about Article 50 being triggered on my birthday and made me more excited about this new chapter of my life. I'm aware this is slowly drifting into cheesy territory, but if you can't get a little overwhelmingly emotional in your birthday post, then when can you?

I don't have a specific set of goals going into my nineteenth year on Earth and it has been a pretty uneventful first month so far. Actually knuckling down and finishing one of my many book drafts I have saved would be nice. Marrying Jake Gyllenhaal or Dev Patel would also be nice, but I'll be fine if the universe would like to delay that for a few more years haha. I'll happily settle for another year of going on fun blogging adventures, being an avid bookworm and remaining a Colin Firth enthusiast. (I swear I came out of the womb with an inherent love for Colin Firth!) Oh, and passing exams would be lovely!
Now comes the time for an obligatory, but very meaningful and sappy 'thank you' to everyone who has kept up with me over the last year and sent me such sweet messages on Twitter, Tumblr and GoodReads. You've made this old lady blush!
Here's to being nineteen and all the opportunities that it'll hopefully bring!
Until next time,
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