not so sweet 16

Sweet 16. I never understood why that was such an important number. 16 years on this earth, why is that so special? I don’t feel very special.

I spent my day in bed and on my couch. Happy birthday to me. 16 years feeling sick. I wouldn’t call this very sweet.

I am currently stuck here in my bed, quite honestly in the most pain I’ve been in, ever. I had treatment yesterday, sadly, so what else is to be expected. Sad that has to be reality for me. I hate reality.

I should be happy that I made it to 16, I guess. I don’t understand why. I don’t feel happy, laying in bed with tears running down my face. I know people have tried to make it special, and I appreciate it, but there was no way to make this day feel good, not when I’m this sick.

I don’t know why I’ve been excited for this day since I was a little kid. It didn’t turn out much like the movies, I must say. I didn’t get 16 magical wishes. Man, could I use at least one. I didn’t get a fancy party, and didn’t get to see all my friends. Not like I really wanted to anyway, not feeling this sick. I mean, at least I made it this far?

Parts for my PC have come in. I’ve learned from using my cousin's PC that I can only play on it for about an hour before I start feeling really sick. It’s only a matter of minutes before my hands start cramping and hurting, which honestly I thought was completely normal before talking to a friend a bit ago. Figures as much, I mean. I was looking forward to being able to learn to code and edit when getting my PC, although I can’t seem to even comprehend sentences the same way anymore, let alone remember anything I happen to learn.

At least it's warm out? Well actually, I get sick when I get too hot, bummer. At least summer is starting soon? Ah shucks, I still have to finish 10th grade… somehow.

At least I can write. Yes, I can still write. I am glad I can write. I can’t wait until I’m 18. Hopefully my writing means something by then. Hopefully I can help people by then. Hopefully I am out of bed by then. Well actually, maybe I should aim for 20.

20 sounds nice. Maybe I’ll have a book out by then. Maybe I’ll still be in bed. Maybe I’ll be even more sick. I hope I can have a sweet 20.

One of these days. One of these days I’ll turn a year older, and it will feel sweet. Not today that is. Definitely. Not today.