Officially 17 years old, Professionally Stressed🫡

So, I turned 17 years old on 9 th June ✨

A few years ago, this would have been a major event. I would have counted down the days, planned everything in advance, and reminded everyone within a five-kilometre radius that my birthday was approaching.

Now?

I am staring at a genetics chapter and wondering whether my viva examiner would accept "but it was my birthday" as a valid excuse.

For some reason, nobody warns you that birthdays become less about excitement and more about logistics as you grow older.

Instead of wondering what gift I'll get, I am wondering whether I can survive the next forty-eight hours.

The strangest part is how fast time moves now. I genuinely feel like 2026 started yesterday, yet somehow it's already June, I am in Standard 12, and seventeen is standing at my doorstep.

Honestly, I would like a refund.

To make matters worse, my birthday and chaos seem to have developed a very close friendship.

Every year's birthday is a living proof of it.

Last year?.....

The day started normally enough. I had classes until 2 p.m., collected the standard birthday wishes, survived the standard birthday clapping, and returned home.

Then came the most dangerous question known to humanity:

"What do you want for your birthday?"

I have never understood this question.

If you're giving me a gift, surprise me.

If I choose it myself, that's not a gift. That's just shopping with extra steps.

Anyway, around 4 p.m., my mom reminded me that I wanted a haircut.

And that was the exact moment my birthday turned into a disaster movie.

I had invited my friends to a café at 6 p.m.

Unfortunately, the salon apparently believed my haircut deserved the same amount of attention as a royal wedding.

Every few minutes I was texting my friends.

"Ten more minutes."

"Actually, fifteen."

"Okay, twenty."

By the end of it, they were so frustrated that I was receiving what can only be described as affectionate threats.☠️🫥

When I finally escaped the salon, I rushed home and got ready.

Being a tomboy has its advantages.😎

My birthday outfit consisted of trousers and a shirt.

Simple.

Comfortable.

Efficient.

According to my best friend, however, I looked less like a birthday girl and more like a businesswoman on her way to discuss quarterly profits.

I chose to take that as a compliment.

My best friend then spent the next thirty minutes making sure I looked like someone who had intentionally attended her own birthday party.

She deserves a medal for her service.

"She is an angel 😇 "

Then we reached the café.

There were no seats.

Not one.

The birthday girl and her guests stood outside looking increasingly confused while I desperately searched for backup plans.

Happy birthday to me👏

Thankfully, the crowd eventually cleared, everybody got food, nobody abandoned me, and the birthday survived.

Barely.

This year, however, I have discovered an even bigger problem.

Apparently, I am impossible to buy gifts for.....

For weeks, people have been asking me what I want.

The issue is that my wish list looks less like a birthday list and more like an inventory report.

• A new compass pouch.
• A water bottle.
• A bag.
• Books.
• Perfume.
• Sunglasses.
• Practical stationery.
• Not cute stationery. (Practical stationery.)

The kind that makes you feel strangely powerful while taking notes.

While other people seem to use birthdays to acquire fun new things, I apparently use them to perform annual maintenance.

One of my friends looked at my list and announced that gifting me was financially dangerous.

Another sent a meme in our group chat that said:

"Everything Dhruvi likes is either outside our budget or illegal."

For legal reasons, I would like to clarify that none of my interests are illegal.

At least, not currently.

The truth is that I have never really been a typical teenager.

My perfume choices are suspiciously serious.

My sunglasses belong in the men's section.

My idea of a good gift is often something practical that I genuinely need.

Being a June baby is proof that life starts humbling you early.🥲

My birthday always fell during summer vacation.

No classroom celebration.

No birthday song.

No distributing chocolates.

No temporary celebrity status.

Just me and the academic calendar conspiring against each other.

I think I celebrated my birthday in school only once or twice, and never on the actual 9th of June.

To this day, I believe the school system owes me compensation.

My birthday outfits make me look ready to negotiate business contracts.💅

Honestly, I have stopped questioning it.

The older I get, the more comfortable I become with being exactly who I am.

People often tell me that they found me intimidating when they first met me.

Which is funny because half the time I am just thinking about books, random facts, or whether I remembered to bring a pen.

Apparently my face is intimidating.😅

My brain, however, is usually busy doing something completely unrelated.

And maybe that is the biggest thing I learned this year.

Not genetics.

Not chemistry.

Not whatever chapter I am currently supposed to be studying.

I learned that I actually like the person I am becoming.

I am practical, emotional, stubborn, sarcastic, dramatic, confident, and occasionally a complete disaster.u

A walking contradiction, basically.

But a contradiction I have grown rather fond of.🤌

So if someone asks me what I genuinely want for my seventeenth birthday, the answer is surprisingly simple.

I want a ticket somewhere peaceful.✈️

A quiet place.

A good book.

No genetics.

No viva.

No deadlines.

No responsibilities.

Just enough silence to remember what relaxation feels like.

Unfortunately, life has informed me that this is not currently an available package.

So instead, I'll settle for finishing my genetics chapter and surviving tomorrow.

And if history repeats itself and chaos inevitably shows up again, at least I'll have something to write about when I turn eighteen.

Assuming I survive the viva first.