Once again, the time has finally come whether I like it or not. Yesterday, I was 26 but no more now. I turned 27 today at 10:45 AM, a number I’ve been wanting to avoid whenever my father introduced me to his friends and colleagues. Now I can’t avoid it anymore. I still have no job and I’m not sure about my tuition job because my father doesn’t like me to come home after dark. Yes, even at the age of 27, I live with my family and therefore I have to abide by his rules. I’ll try to talk to him about it but if he refused, I’ll have to let go of the job, which I don’t want to because I don’t want to depend on him all the time. It’d be nice to earn some money of myself even though he can afford to pay for my expenses.
When I was young, I used to associate the word ‘birthday’ with presents, party, and celebration. I used to thought that holding a birthday party with friends was important. Getting a birthday present from my parents was important. Blowing out candles on a birthday cake was important. But I had neglected the one thing that mattered the most – the one person who gave birth to me. Well, now….
So, yeah…unhappy birthday to me.