Curate, connect, and discover
It was expected. It's been a few years since I've last had a happy, tearless birthday.
I've had happy birthday parties, get togethers with wonderful and hilarious gifts I will always be thankful for. But in the end, I always go to bed, and cry on my birthday.
I don't dislike getting older. There has always been this thrill, what will happen next? Is this the year everything changes? This time, will I truly become something else?
But the thrill tones down. Another month turns into another year, and you forget what it felt like to be seventeen. There's this odd comfort to it. Maybe, this year, nothing will change, and I will stay the person I am, and that doesn't feel so bad.
Sometimes though, it turns into fear. The older I get, the more likely I am to lose the things that matter. I am terrified, so I cry, and hide in the arms of my mother because then I am her child, and it's okay to feel lost again, it's okay to feel the size of the world around me.
Age is a thing so big, while I still feel so small. So unprepared, and a little unsure of where to go next.
So maybe, just in my head, I'll stay eighteen for a while longer. Maybe if I'm not ready, and I don't feel like today is the right day to get older, and I still can't quite let go of that scared, fragile part of me that still has so many things to learn about living as an adult, maybe it's okay. Maybe I'll just keep crying on my birthday.
And maybe one day, I'll have it just a little more figured out.
Original writing! Kinda funny, I guess? I don’t know, read it under the cut and please tell me what you think!!!!!!! I NEED OPINIONS PLEASE!!
Agatha looked at the man in her hallway incredulously. When she looked behind her, around her, even above her, she looked at him again with an arched brow.
“Care to repeat that?” She asked, with not a small amount of skepticism.
He was still beaming, his smile not faltering even in her impromptu search, and his eyes twinkled—yes actually twinkled— as he opened his mouth, straight white teeth gleaming.
“You, my Lady Agatha, have been determined to be the Chosen One of the Great Prophecy and will be the Realm’s Hero!”
That’s what she thought he’d said. He beamed even brighter at her, his teeth twinkling now. This had to be a dream. Or a hallucination. Or she was dead and this was what her brain had decided to conjure up. Why couldn’t she have a nice hallucination like—like eating at a five star hotel? Or even getting to retire with a hefty pension fund?
She pinched herself. It hurt.
Motherfucker.
The silence stretched, and stretched. And he was still smiling. Was there something wrong with him? Her head was blank, devoid of any thoughts except a faint buzzing sound. And then, just to cut off the silence that was becoming a little stifling by now, she blurted the first thing she could.
“But what about my cats?”
The man blinked, his perfect smile faltering for just a moment. His brow furrowed slightly as if the thought of cats hadn’t quite factored into his grand announcement. He opened his mouth, paused, then tilted his head, clearly trying to reassess the situation.
"Your... cats?" he asked, as though the concept of pets was a foreign one.
Agatha nodded. "Yes, my cats. All three of them. Whiskers, Tibbles, and Shadow. Who’s going to feed them? Who’s going to clean their litter boxes? You can’t just expect me to up and leave them!"
The man hesitated, his eyes flickering as though searching for an answer that would satisfy her. "Well, my Lady, surely your noble companions will be well looked after—"
Agatha cut him off with a raised hand. "By who? You? The Realm’s Hero isn’t exactly a part-time gig, is it? I mean, between saving the world and fulfilling the Great Prophecy, when exactly am I supposed to find the time to change the litter? And do you know how picky Whiskers is about his food? He only eats the chicken pâté, and it has to be room temperature." She was rambling now, and her eyes had strayed over to the door she was leaning against. It was dusty, and she winced a little at the state of it. She’d have to remember to dust it soon. Assuming that this ‘Hero’ business didn’t put her out too much.
The man’s smile had faded entirely now, replaced by a look of utter bewilderment. This was not how these proclamations usually went. There was supposed to be awe, excitement, a dramatic embrace of destiny. Not... cats.
Agatha watched as the man struggled to find words, feeling a small sense of satisfaction in his discomfort. She had no idea how to deal with being a "Chosen One," but she was quite adept at handling pushy strangers who thought they could just barge into her life with outlandish demands. Being a wedding planner helped with that. She crossed her arms over her chest, her skepticism growing by the second.
"Listen," she said, her voice softening a bit. "I’m sure saving the,” she had to pause here, remembering his words earlier “Realm is very important and all, but I have a life here. A small life. With cats! You can’t just expect me to drop everything because some prophecy says I’m supposed to. It’s not that simple."
The man finally seemed to regain his composure, standing a little taller and clearing his throat. "My Lady Agatha, the Great Prophecy is not to be taken lightly. The fate of the Realm hangs in the balance, and you are the key to our salvation. Your—" he paused here, much like she did earlier, and he seemed to be clearly struggling with the idea “cats, while surely beloved, are but a small part of a much larger tapestry. Surely you can see the greater good—"
"Stop right there," Agatha interrupted again. "If you’re going to try and guilt-trip me into this, we’re going to have a problem. Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not saying no, okay? I’m just saying I need to think about it. Maybe read up on this prophecy, find out what it actually entails. And, y’know, figure out what to do with my cats." She frowned a little at the end. If the answer was that she had to leave her cats behind, then she was going to have to do a lot of thinking.
The man sighed, the twinkle in his eyes dimming slightly as he realized this conversation was going to be far more complicated than he’d anticipated. How did he do that? "Very well, my Lady," he said, his tone more subdued. "I shall return in three days' time for your decision. In the meantime, I suggest you prepare yourself—both for the journey ahead and for the weight of the responsibility that comes with being the Chosen One."
Agatha nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure what "preparing herself" meant. Finding a bow & arrow? That seemed very on point with what was happening right now.
The man gave a stiff bow, turned on his heel, and with a flash of light that made Agatha wince and shield her eyes, he vanished from her hallway, leaving her alone with her thoughts—and her cats, who had finally decided to come investigate the commotion.
She looked down at Whiskers, who meowed expectantly. "Well," she said, picking him up and scratching behind his ears, "What do you think? Should I save the world? Or should we just go back to bed and pretend none of this happened?"
Whiskers purred loudly, clearly in favor of the latter option.
Agatha sighed. "Yeah, that’s what I thought."
Quick question, is it wrong of me to post my own story here cause it is darn adorable and everyone needs to see it