Fuck a Birthday

It's my birthday tomorrow. Historically, I have the worst birthdays ever. I'm sure every year I write this same sort of thing... I'll have to go back and check. Either someone's dumping me, someone dies, or something else horrible happens. I'm starting to think my birthday is cursed.

I fully intended to have a good time tonight - it was going to be a nice dinner out and conversation with a close friend. Instead, I get to drive home 17 miles with an empty stomach, a mouthful of dry bitter bile, and my body shaking with rage as I grind my teeth and clutch the steering wheel.

I'll cool down and I'll get over it. I just can't believe I allowed someone who broke my heart to then break my trust. Fool me once and shame and all of that. The icing on my birthday shit-cake is that I'm a liar apparently. I've just fucking had it up to here (*holds hand up in the air to indicate where).

This is simply for reference. I'm not terribly concerned at this point. I'm just sad and upset and feel like crap right now. Plus, I don't really have jack shit to do tonight now... not that I really feel like doing much of anything tonight at this point. Maybe I'll just go to bed or something. 9pm isn't too early for a Friday night is it?

Push, pull, shove, grab. All I want is to breathe. I feel like I'm going to puke.

Tomorrow will hopefully be better. If it isn't, I'm just going to fucking give up and stop having birthdays. In fact, I'm not to keen on the idea of getting older anyway.

My birthday is what I make it. I must just suck at making it good. Perhaps I have racked up some bad birthday karma at some point.


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