Most people look forward to birthdays. The annoying countdowns, birthday lists, and party planning. I however, agree with one of the greatest rappers of all time. Birthdays truly suck in the end. My family has learned not to push the whole birthday thing. Cake, ice cream, and whatever I wrote down on my wish list. Friends are usually absent on birthdays, not because I don't have any, it's because they really don't give a shit about my birthday.
It doesn't help that I had a dream about Mr. Passion last night. It was one of those alternative ending dreams. You know, when you buy a movie on DVD they sometimes slip in the alternative ending. What would happen if X, Y or Z occurred? Well, last night I had the alternative ending dream where X, Y, Z didn't occur. I hadn't written that shitty letter, he never left for home without saying goodbye, and he never took that skank to prom. Would things have worked out? Would I be planning my birthday with my boyfriend? Or would things have unravelled eventually? So many questions, so few answers. At least I'm at the stage of acceptance, denial was one helluvah drug.
I just want to crawl into a hole this year. A hole as in my four poster queen sized bed. The closer my birthday gets here, the more I detest the 22 years I've spent on this earth. It just seems like birthdays are dirty reminders of all the mistakes we have made and how small we really are in this world. The broken relationships, failed adventures, and monotony of the human existence will continue on. Happy fucking Birthday!
Let Them Eat Cake,
P. Manolos
P.s. I haven't had my morning coffee yet....
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