Happy Birthday to me.
Minus the happy.
I guess I have some pretty unrealistic ideals of how a birthday should be.
Your friends know when it is (without the help of facebook/myspace), have probably been talking to you about it for a few days prior and call you up to wish you happy birthday on spacific day.
You have something fun planned to do, and the excuse/reasoning for everything is, ‘It’s her birthday!’
Maybe a party with your friends planned, or at least some entertaining outing.
Not your best friend saying she didn’t know. Not having nothing planned. Not having people you told several times over the week about your birthday coming up and they still act surprised when you tell them its your birthday.
It’s my own fault, I sound so selfish, but I feel really hurt… and I shouldn’t because it’s my own damn fault I didn’t have anything planned, it’s my own fault I didn’t make more of an effort to get a party going. It’s all my fault. But I still feel hurt. I can’t help it.
This is the worst birthday I’ve ever had. That sounds dramatic but it’s true.
Maybe I’ve been spoiled with friends over the past few years, because I’ve always had them around teasing me about my birthday weeks in advance talking with me about what we’d do and yadda yadda yadda. This is the first year that didn’t happen… and I feel selfish for bringing it up around people. I made myself, at least once or twice a week over the past month.
Its my own fault I shouldn’t be complaining. It’s a birthday, who gives a shit?
I guess I do.