Today is my birthday. Another year older. I hate birthdays. I always have.
Example. When I turned 4 I had a birthday party. My parents brought in a cake and I blew out the candles - and promptly burst into tears. My mother asks, "What's wrong schnuckiputz??" and I wail in the response "I'M ONE YEAR CLOSER TO DYING!!!". That's when the video recording stops.
Another example. My 9th birthday I had a meltdown because I was "one year away from double digits". I'm pretty sure my parents had no idea what to do with me.
Every year now I have a mental breakdown on the day of my birth. I am just not good with getting older. But for all the anxiety it causes, I think I handle it pretty well. I have my one day of depressive emo morbidity, and then I get over it. So to "celebrate", I'm wearing black. Essie Licorice.
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