Why is it that we count our years of age, anyway? I mean we know our birthdate. D’uh. We have a birth certificate and crap. And we can celebrate on the anniversary of that date every year, if we like — there’s no sense not having a party with cake and ice cream. But why do we have to count the years of our life like we’re fucking prisoners in jail, marking time in scratches on the wall?
Is that how we feel? Like we’re trapped in our own lives just waiting for the comforting kiss of death? We’re all sad and pathetic, just ticking off the time like we’ve accepted our tragic existence.
And if it’s not that, what else could it be? Are we stupid? If we don’t count the years out for ourselves, will we not be able to do the math from our own birthdate? If we don’t put our age on every form we ever fill out, will we totally forget what fucking age we are?
Maybe we’re all at least mildly OCD and we need to count our age every year in order to feel right and secure. We need that sense of repetition and reiteration to better manage our life cycles.
Is it the ultimate fear of death? We need to constantly have corroboration that we’re still alive and seeing that number by our name reassures us that, indeed, we are? Are we that insecure that we’re still relevant to the world that we need to be continually reminded of being alive?
Are the details of our lives so disappointing that our age is the only validation to our existence that really matters? Our careers? Our accomplishments and all the knowledge we’ve gathered? Even the luxuries that we’ve become so accustomed to — are these so underwhelming that they don’t help remember a full life?
What about our families? Our partners? Our children? Our parents and our siblings? Our friends? Our loved-ones? Are these not enough to prove to ourselves that we have full lives?
Are we truly saying that the literal loves of our lives aren’t enough for us, in terms of marking our lives and providing our existence? We really need to stoop to such a level that we reduce our lives to counting the years like hostages?
So yeah…I’m turning 42 in less than a month.