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Well, it’s officially been over a month since I turned 23. Usually when people ask right after a birthday whether I feel any different, I scoff it off. Like, different from yesterday? A little, because I’m drunk because it’s my birthday. But no. I just feel a day older – which is what “normal” feels like, because I’m one day older every day. (Isn’t that crazy? Feeling fine, having a good, regular day, feeling normal – we could rephrase that with “feeling one day older.” The best you can feel on any given standard Tuesday is one day older. Isn’t that depressing?)

This month, I’ve felt more than a day older. Several times. I’m not sure when it *started* happening, but it’s become a trend: the peer pressure to which I succumb has officially started coming from people younger than me.