Two hours?

Two hours until I'm twenty. Two hours left to be a teenager.

And no, I didn't actually get drunk, screw around, or hate authority these last three days. That would have been dumb.

The odd thing is, it seems like its one of those events that would make you think about the majesty of life and the passage of time and the coming-of-age and all that stuff, but no. I got nothing. It's just bothersome, really. Sort of like New Year's; everyone else gets moved, or at least has a party, and I just sort of get annoyed because DAMMIT I just know that for the next six months, every time I put down the date, I'll accidentally put down '2004'. And it'll be just like that for my age; people will ask how old I am, and I'll tell them I'm 2004.

Then I'll feel dumb. ANNOYING.