One of the scary things about birthdays is that it reminds of the previous occasions and also painfully forces me to remember every stupid thing I did in the interim - worse are the memories of things that I wanted to do but was too lazy to even think about it.
This date also forces me to think about the end, reminding me that I will have only a finite amount of these days. Its not a fear of the unavoidable death that troubles me, but a sense of lethargic acceptance of the death with an implicit denial of the meaning of the time between now and the eventuality.
Lastly, the thing I dislike the most is the ordinary nature of the special day. Irrespective of what fun activities we do, what extra fun we get out of this day - the day itself is spectacularly ordinary; like every other day. This fact in itself has been troubling me as long ago as I remember birthdays.
Anyways, all these are disclaimers for why I might have sounded grumpy or reserved today. Happy birthday to me! Thanks for the wishes.