I’ve blogged about time and my fluid perception of it before, but nothing drives home that point like when my birthday comes around. My 16th birthday was no big deal to me, and birthdays honestly haven’t been since I turned thirteen. And the only thirteen was a big deal was because it meant I had at long last crossed into the threshold of teendom. An era of my life that ended two week ago. Now I am twenty, and I really feel no different than I did in my late teens. It was only a big deal because I entered my second decade. Eighteen was a big deal because it signified majority. Nineteen was kind of weird because it was an age in between milestones, much like eleven and twelve. Now the only big milestone left is 21, than I will be a full adult and birthdays will return to mediocrity. I do like presents and parties, it’s just that the occasion itself isn’t nearly as big a deal as when I was much younger.