I haven't been this excited about a birthday in years.

I'd thought I would be a little down, really, because there's work tomorrow (yes, it sucks) and I can't actually lounge about on my birthday weekend. Also, I'm twenty-eight.

Ten years ago, I would have pictured myself extremely rich and successful by now.

I suppose part of this joy I'm currently experiencing is the fact that I'm finally comfortable in my own skin, like I've somehow managed to find a "me" that I really like.

Teenage me was a bitch to be with, really, since I hated everything and everyone.

College me was okay, but still fumbling, wondering how it is exactly to be "cool".

Twenty-one year old me was fucked up. I was in for a rude awakening, realizing that the real world was nothing like I imagined.

Me today?

Happy.

None of that drama about me not wanting to grow up, or grow old, or whatever it is I tend to get emo about whenever a birthday rolls around. I've realized that I may have adult responsibilities now, but being childish and child-like most days is still fine. That's who I am, and there's no point wondering why society is forcing me to be someone else.

Lesson #245867 - Society can go screw itself. I play by my own rules now.

Because I might not be filthy rich, or successful, or exceptionally cool (relatively cool, I'd say), but I'm at a point wherein I actually, honestly, seriously, cross-my-heart like myself.

Happy birthday, Me.