Birthday Blues

Ew.
I'm old.
Older.
The last day being the age I am is - the same.
And yet I'm scared.
Funny how one number can make you think about everything that's happened
I only look back longingly,
because I'll never get those years back.
And strange enough I want them back.
I miss them - and as of tomorrow -
I feel I won't be able to get them back at all.
Only in pictures.
I'll be the same me - but with a different number.
But that number I left, all of them, still mean a lot to me.
Each time I leave one - I miss it.
Each time I gain one, I'm scared at what it will bring.
Each time I look ahead - I'm excited-
But when it finally arrives, I shy away from it again.
And yet it manages to stare back at me on a birthday cake.
And I'm forced to face the new age, the new me, head on.
With fire and wax.
And then it falls upon me - like a familiar T-shirt. And I wear it proudly.
Until the next number comes along a year later...
Ew.
Let's get through tomorrow, run and hide and embrace my new number.
It's part of growing up.
Happy birthday to me.