Slowly it comes.

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I never thought of my birthday as anything special. Another year gone by. Another list of things I didn't get done. Another list of things that I've done wrong.
Despite this, I've always been excited for my birthday. The usual: "Yes, another year older!" But this time around, I'm wishing it could stay just a near thought in the future.

Eighteen.
It's pretty big, isn't it? At least it seems to be. In reality, there isn't anything overly special about it. It's just another number, but somehow it's gotten to mean a little more.

So what do I want for my birthday this year?
In addition to the flying carpet, genie, my own little place, and a 1956 Jaguar Roadster, there's one more thing...

I want you.

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