Birthdays are weird. Birthdays have always been weird for me, considering how often my birthday falls on a weekend where no one stays in town if they can help it, but I think they’d still be weird even if I was born on any day other than a bank holiday. The thought of being sung to in some awkwardly lit restaurant by a bunch of strangers makes me want to crawl out of my skin a little, but the worry that no one would even remember the date to make the reservation in the first place outweighs it. 

It’s not that I want the world to stop and celebrate me. I’d be more than happy to be left mostly to my own devices with a few passing wishes. I’d just like to be considered, you know? Thought about, even briefly. The older you get, I’m finding, the harder it is to make anyone consider you, even on your birthday. Being out of grade school means people need to make a concerted effort to remember you’re starting the clock on a new year, especially now that Facebook is dying and no one writes on your Wall anymore. 

For me, turning a year older is an exercise in how forgettable I might be to everyone I’ve ever known. I’m trying to get over it, I guess, because I know that the people I love do, in fact, love me back and would never purposely forget about me. I’m determined to do it in the most outlandish way possible. (I’m not sure who I’d be if I did it any other way, to be honest with you.) 

I asked my friends and family to help me put this playlist together. My expectations were not high, admittedly, though that was entirely based on me and not at all based on them. I was shocked by how they all contributed — I even managed to get an answer out of my 23 year old brother, who is notoriously the hardest person I know to get on the phone for longer than 30 seconds at a time. This is how they all see me, how they all remember me, and a little bit how I remember myself.

Here’s to 27, and 25 and 20 and 13 and every age I’ve ever been, and to every age I will be in the future.

Xoxo,

Your second best(ie)