My birthday is on Thursday and I already hate it. I wish that I was working so that I didn’t have to worry or think about the stupid thing. But, for some reason, I have the night off.
I don’t care about getting older. I just hate that it means that I have to do something. People expect it. So I get to be their dancing monkey for a night. I don’t even know enough people to have a party and here I am, trying anyway – mainly inviting my roommate’s friends. They probably won’t even show up. I don’t know why the fuck I’m even bothering.
It was all fine until roomie wanted to do something. Then I thought it would be nice if she had an excuse for a party. Now I just hate the whole thing. I wish we didn’t even have birthdays. What’s the fucking point? I’m going to bed to sulk now.
I really hate this.
3 comments
Rob Owens
May 2, 2007 at 8:46 pm (UTC -4) Link to this comment
Grumpy,
At last someone like me who hates their own birthdays, in my case since age eight.
I merely endure them so that others may party. They seem to enjoy it.
Paul
May 6, 2007 at 1:19 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
I wouldn’t say I hate my birthday, but only because I reserve “hate” more extreme feelings…or feelings at all.
I just don’t care about the fact that I survived one more year without dying. And if I didn’t survive, I’m guessing I wouldn’t care too much either.
I don’t understand birthdays after you’re an adult (whatever that means). What’s the big deal? If your a child, yes it’s a big deal. There’s a big difference between being 7 and being 8, or 12 and 13, or the year before the age of consent and the year after.
Voting age should be a big deal too, but let’s face it, it just isn’t. When I turned 18 I didn’t think “Yes! Now I can vote”. I thought “How far to Quebec?”.
Ryan Oakley
May 6, 2007 at 6:13 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
I think birthdays are just a dress rehearsal for your funeral. However many people come to your birthday, double come to your funeral. But that’s just because they don’t have to put up with you.