Twenty-three.

What good could possibly come of being 23?

I got a voicemail last night in which I thought my grandmother said "Hope you having a good time, or at least feeling better about getting one year old, and one year closer to death," however upon a second listen I believe she in fact said "one year closer to success."

I don't know.. getting older might have it's perks, but I think I'm gonna stop.

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I'm pretty much sick of it already.

Update: I learned tonight that I might have something to look forward to this year. Apparently 23 is the year the stigmata usually happens. I await it eagerly.