Pre-Birthday Celebrations... Well, Kinda!

So. It's Sunday evening and I'm sitting rather awkwardly on this wooden chair/shoe holder (its specific title has either slipped from my frazzled brain or I've yet to come across it in my dictionary) whilst sniffing the chocolate cake-scented air, which is heavy with the atmosphere that is typical in the hours before a major event.

Such as my 17th birthday which, in four hours' time, will finally arrive, and will mark a further step towards adulthood which, as turning 18 is generally viewed as the all-important milestone in one's life, will be my final birthday before I become an adult - a fact that I really can't get my head around. Well, I might sometimes feel much older than my years (particularly in some of my classes at school where the boys may shout and get carried away with their primary school-inspired humour, while I'm literally resisting the urge to scream at them like a teacher - but then again, wouldn't most girls feel the same?), yet seeing a new and bigger number that represents my age somewhat terrifies me because I'm once again getting further away from the sweet comfort blanket that is childhood, which I sometimes feel slipped too quickly out of my fingers before I could truly appreciate it.

Then again, does everyone take their childhood for granted? While we are living it, such an innocent period in our lives feels eternal and, if you were anything like myself at the age of nine, you would wonder whether you were forever condemned to be assigned to stomach-churning pink clothes and Hannah Montana merchandise (despite detesting it with a passion, skirts with the show's logo still found their way onto my skirts!) because your age dictates as to what levels of sophistication and maturity you can be exposed to.

Even as a youngster, I craved to be older because it symbolised excitement - something that remains present in my extremely long wishlist as it provides a welcome escape from the dramas and hassles of everyday life, which certainly doesn't surprise me when pretty much all of this week has been devoted to finishing my Performing Arts coursework in time for Tuesday! Seriously, you will discover yourself wrapped up in dreams and wishes when piles of panic-inducing coursework land on your lap...

In addition to this, I've been fighting 'the lurgy' - otherwise known as the common cold and awfully sore throat - all week, which kick-started in epic style last Sunday when I struggled to swallow anything without a jolt of agonising pain bolting through my mouth. Ouch. Despite this pain passing, I've also had to contend with the sniffles (thanks to my school switching the heating on full blast while the UK faces its mildest winter in history - whilst turning it off when it is as chilling as torturing your shampooed hair with an ultra cold rinse - and a dreadfully sore throat, which is to blame for my current inability to talk for more than five seconds without sounding like a Dalek whose voice is breaking like that of an male teenager. Not so nice, is it?

Still, the show - or at least my birthday - must go on, especially if an Aero and Revel-adorned chocolate cake will be the star of the show tomorrow after I return from an exhausting day at school where, hopefully, some people will have remembered that it is my birthday. Unlike a number of people in my year, I haven't taken it upon myself to brag about my birthday to the entire world (e.g. every single teenager in the local town via Facebook) because such an occasion is one out of millions of birthdays that take place every day and may not get any recognition, which I find tremendously sad because no one - regardless of gender, sexuality, race or so-called 'class' - should receive more or less attention on the most important day in their lives.

Yet, as a teenager, a bit of attention - of the decent kind, of course - would be welcome, especially as I've always made an effort to say 'Happy Birthday' to anyone whose birthday I knew fell on that day in the past. Nevertheless, I won't shed bucket loads of tears if few people return such polite gestures - at least I know that I possess the strength to not lower myself to such ignorant behaviour!

Birthdays are birthdays, and I'm looking forward to enjoying a peaceful, albeit slightly chocolate-mad one this year. With so much going on at the moment - such as revision, completing remaining bits of coursework (hurrah!) and battling what seems to be a particularly nefarious mutation of the common cold - I've had little time to write about how I'm feeling, which is ironic because my voice is too creaky and weak to speak properly, yet I will make more of an effort in the near future thanks to half-term approaching in a fortnight's time. Yay!

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me... Well, at least writing instead of singing along won't hurt my voice!