On Thursday, April 7th, I turned 17. I always think it’s funny when people ask me if I feel any older. I never get that feeling, and I don’t think most people do either.
Instead, I feel like I’m 17, plus everything below. I’m still 16; I’m still 15; I’m still 12; I’m still 5; I’m still 3. But I’m also 17. Like, I have moments where I feel like I’m 3 when I hurt myself and I sit there and let my mom fix me up. Or, I feel like I’m 12 when I get into drama over silly things with my friends. Or I’m 10 because I just want the biggest piece of candy. It’s like as you grow older, you try and cover up your younger years. You’re still everything you were before, plus one. Not sure if I’m making sense.
Birthdays used to be such a big deal to me. I would always throw a party and invite all my friends and play games and eat cake and get presents. I would always beg my mom every year to let me have one. It was so important. But now, it’s not like that at all. I still like to do a little something, but just with a few friends.
So last night, Becky and Andrew took me out to dinner at my favorite restaurant, Applebee’s. They had invited a bunch of other people to surprise me, but I wasn’t really surprised because Andrew kept accidentally dropping hints all day that were pretty suspicious. Like in Physics, one of my friends came over and whispered something in his ear, and he just nodded. When I inquired about it, he just grinned at me. Then later on, he was texting one of our friend’s and he was being pretty secretive about it. Just little hints like that.
Either way, it was really fun and I received a few nice gifts, and it was great having those extra friends there. I don’t know what I’d do without my friends; they really are the best:
(Also, I got sour patch kids, and they are the best ever and ever and I’ve already eaten them all. And I got a stuffed animal bunny from Andrew, and it is the softest thing ever.)