It has been a pleasure and a pain to find myself adulting. Paying bills, considering a mortgage, making my own doctor’s appointments and being with people with whom you were childing and wilding with once upon a time is the truest way that I have realised my birthdays are actually marking something.
Mostly, it’s a comfort to know that you can still have a support system of people who will wait 2 hours for you when you’re running late, listen to you cry about doing what they told you not to and stay up late and out with you doing the absurdest of things. It’s a comfort because you’re not drawn by proximity but mutual love, kinship and fondness for each other.
They make me happy to adult.