When Do You Have To Grow Up?



Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday dear Nicolaaaa, Happy Birthday to me!!!


Yup, it’s my birthday today. I’m 34 years old. I don’t normally pay much attention to the passing of time and I definitely didn’t think that 34 would be an age that affected me but I had a bit of a wobble last week. I’m 34. I’m middle aged. Maybe I should stop having hair like a My Little Pony, having bits of metal shoved through my face and body, stop getting tattooed and dressing ‘alternatively’. Maybe I should stop trying to write, stop knocking on agent’s doors, stop being the way that I am and start acting my age.

But then I had a thought…

What if I did? What if I died my hair to it’s natural colour (whatever that is!), started to dress demurely and packed my notebooks and manuscripts away. How would I feel about that when I was 80? I don’t want to look back and wonder what I could have done. I don’t want to regret the times I didn’t dance in the rain, or the times I didn’t feel like me in my quest to please others, I don’t want to wake up and think about the stories I never wrote or the stories I wrote that I never shared. I want silliness. I want creativity. I want to not worry about looks in the streets or whispers I might hear.

So Happy Birthday To Me. May I carry on ageing not disgracefully but with the grace to just be happy being me.



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