The hangover of being special

It was my birthday yesterday.

I started it, unlike every other year, not by accepting wishes over umpteen phone calls, messages and e-mails for hours starting from midnight, but by keeping my cellphone off(for reasons more than one) and sleeping till2am, making an early breakfast and then finally replying to the abuses (which came instead of wishes for keeping the phone off).

so it started the vicious circle of being happy, being special, treated like a princess and a baby(ironic, since i am actually growing old birthday is a day when one is reminded of it), eating high-calorie sinful food,over and over with different groups of people, saying/typing zillions of thank you's(trying to be innovative with each message of acknowledgment and gratitude for the wishes, not because they would compare and contrast but because you get bored of typing the same thing all day long).

I like my birthday, i always have.

but last day was...kind of different.

It was more subdued than what i have always encountered since i was born.

It didn't feel as grand , as festive, as 'birthday-like' as I have always felt 18th dec to be. i am not complaining. It was different but nice.

I kept wondering through the night if the this is because i have grown up or because there are thousand other things I had to be excited about.

whatever it was, good bad or fabulous, i would like my next birthday to be different than what it has been this year or even the years past.

A cliched statement would fit in here, i guess:

'change is the only thing that is constant.'