on a yearly basis i am nagged by the thought of growing older in a time that is not kind to geriatrics. it comes around once a year in the springtime and with each consecutive day of celebration i am concerned less than the previous year's. though my care about birthdays decreases at a geometrical rate my aging increases at an arithmetical rate: logic follows that, by my 30th birthday, i'll wish i were dead and by my 40th i'll wrap myself in wet blankets in a room that i haven't left for three years.
though this trend is not necessarily reversible there are preventative measures one can take to quell the headache caused by the blunt force trauma caused by birthday wishes from people whom you speak to once or twice a year (one of those times being on your birthday when they wish you happy birthday). by the time i am writing this i have heard "happy birthday" from just about everyone i would expect/want to hear it from.
[unfinished]
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