The day I was born is soon approaching, I don’t look forward to it. It reminds me how much none of them really know me. Here we go again, some more of them saying “we should hang out soon”, “let’s catch up on lost time” and the instant classic “I always thought you were cute” but they all mean less after the fact. This isn’t my first rodeo, let’s leave it at that. I stopped listening a couple years back but I have to say that it’s funny how they wait for my birthday to tell me what I always want to hear. Whispering sweet nothings, always trying to **** a tear or two from me but I don’t feel a thing anymore.
My birthday is just a day, you’re the one who placed more importance so don’t get mad when I don’t try to fake a grin every time you try to patronize me when the 22nd of this awful month comes back around.
Maybe I’m bitter or jaded, maybe secretly I’m hated, but maybe I see you all copy before you paste it. Maybe I hate it, not knowing how to act when this date hits because maybe I don’t feel like celebrating.
I know nobody likes a downer, that’s why I decide to keep quiet and reluctantly go along with all of your traditional customs. A birthday needs some cake, but I’ve never liked cake. A birthday needs some friends, but we both know I’m a loner. A birthday needs a toast, but what can I say?
I’ll turn 22 on the 22nd, but I won’t feel any different.