There are two ages that are smacked between two milestone birthdays. Turning 18 means you are no longer a minor, you can vote, you can buy a lottery ticket and tobacco products, and you can legally become a porn star. Turning 21 means you are officially an adult, and you can legally purchase alcohol. Now, between those milestones are the ages of 19 and 20, where nothing is new and exciting.

I'm turning 20 on February 21st, and as excited as everyone else is for me about no longer being a teen, I'm really not that excited about this birthday. What is there for me to do? "Congrats, you're now an adult." No, I'm just another twenty-something-year-old who can't budget their money properly and won't get out of bed on the weekends to take care of my responsibilities.

I see no real perk behind the big twentieth birthday. I'm still a year away from finally joining my friends at the bars, and I won't be able to rent a car for another five years. I still can't bartend for my catering job nor can I get any real respect because I'm "not even 21."

Finding something to do to celebrate the 20th birthday is hard, too. I've been going to dinner with my family for the past four years, and the thought of another dinner has me sick. I tried to have a house party, once, for my 12th birthday and it was the most awkward thing ever. I only invited 10 people, and they were split into two groups, who chose not to interact with one another at all. This year, I'm taking another shot at a house party, with an invite list of 50, and only 18 confirmed partygoers. It's really got my hopes up.

What's so great about this birthday anyway? It doesn't even sound nice when it rolls off the tongue. "How old are you?" "I'm 20." It sounds like a child trying to prove their maturity, with their chest puffed out and their hands on their hips. It doesn't hold much weight in the world of grown-ups.

If I thought turning 19 was boring, turning 20 is just a huge tease. The age of legality is being dangled in front of my face, unable to reach it for another 365 days. It's worse than when I was so excited to sell alcohol at my job when I turned 18 but realized it wasn't as exciting as it seemed to pop off the bottle cap on a beer and give it to a customer.

I know that once I turn 21, it's all downhill from there. There are no other birthdays to look forward to. I'll wish there was a halt on the aging process, so I wouldn't pass the age of 25 and pray that time slowed down.

I think about my sister, who's about to turn 25, and my boyfriend, who's turning 24 at the end of the year, and how they're just part of a collective group of twenty-something-year-olds, watching the years fly by, when just not too long ago, they were turning 20, and wishing time would speed up.

Those that say I should stop and enjoy the years clearly haven't been the youngest in their group of friends and unable to hang with the big dogs.