Birthdays Used To Feel Like Magic

Birthdays used to feel like magic like the world paused just for me, balloons brushing the ceiling, frosting on my cheeks, counting candles like they were trophies I had earned I’d wake up early on purpose, as if the day might run out without me, waiting for surprises, for laughter, for that feeling of being the center of a tiny, perfect universe Back then, growing up was a prize. I wanted to be taller, older, faster, closer to the freedom I didn’t yet understand. Now birthdays pass more than they arrive No loud countdown in my chest, just a soft reminder - another year, another version of me - I have to become The excitement is still there, but it’s… different. It sits beside a strange kind of ache, like opening a gift and realizing it’s heavier than it looks. There’s stress now of time moving too fast, of dreams I haven’t reached yet, of questions that don’t come with answers of not being where I thought I’d be. Sometimes it feels like just another day, blending into deadlines, responsibilities, into a life that doesn’t pause anymore And somewhere inside, that same kid still waits but each year, she shows up a little less