Happy Birthday To Me

Today was my birthday. It was very interesting actually how piece by piece I fell apart. The night before I went to a dance. Oh my goodness I was at an all time high. The only thing is that every good thing must come to an end. Eventually I got tired of dancing and the upity feeling started to disappear so I went home. Everything was so amazing and it was also amazing how one comment tore me apart. One person called me a hot mess, which I have called myself so many times, but somehow to hear it from someone else just started eating away at me. So I went into the next day, waking up trying to feel good. You know what I’ve realized though? Birthdays really aren’t that significant, all that changes is a number. People just make it a big deal. Or maybe just my birthday isn’t. It’s very degrading to have everyone besides like 3 people remember your birthday. Even my “best friend” didn’t tell me happy birthday. It’s amazing how I have constant reminders that I don’t have any friends and everything is pretend. Just a bunch of High School Bullshit. And I guess that makes me a pathetic crybaby who pretends not to care about what other people think. 

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