I just turned 25.
A quarter of a century old.
Wow. Or not.
I guess hoping for some life- altering epiphany was overly optimistic.
Things feel just as mundane and lack luster.
Am I suffering the disease that plagues my generation?
That insatiable desire for something different, something special.
Nothing is ever enough.
Feeling alive only comes with chasing the very next high.
I wonder what mine is.
Everything after you falls short of expectation.
I seem to have become exceedingly accustom to disappointment.
Kinda numb to it really.
It's terrible.
I wonder how much more time I will need before things change.

With the passing of my birthday, it brings forth the coming of yours.
Since I lack the courage to say it anywhere else.
Hopefully this will do.
I'll always be around if you need me.
Happy Birthday.