Today is my 28th birthday.
And I am utterly alone.
Well, I should say, it is me and the dog.
People have texted. They've left messages on MySpace. Which is all well and good.
However, for once in my life, I really wanted to do it up right. I've never had a huge birthday shindig. I mean, yeah, when I was little, I had all the girls in my class for cake and slumber parties. But really - since I've hit the age of 21, I've done shit.
People love for me to come to their little get togethers. They love that I think of them, finding small little gifts, even if they are inexpensive, that just made me think of them.
But can these people be bothered to come out to our bar, buy me a drink, and actually look me in the face to wish me a good year? No.
Fact of the matter: there are few people in this world that actually give a rat's ass about you. If you have a few best friends who would take a bullet for you, treasure them. Keep them close. Because they are the ones who make the shitty birthdays and holidays feel better.
Maybe I've gotten more cynical over the years. But how can I not, when I purposefully invited all these people two weeks ago. They all said, "Yeah! I'll be there!" I purposefully made sure it would be someplace everyone could get to by car, that they knew where it was...and of course...they are all flaking out. Yet again, it is me. Even my truest, best friends can't really come out, due to work or various other reasons.
I feel like just screaming: FUCK YOU! to every single person I've ever given a gift to. Ever made a last minute card stop for, ever bothered to buy a beer on their day. Because at least my ass was there.
So, here it is:
to those of you who just blew me off like a piece of shit:
FUCK YOU.
And never expect any more from me on your days than just showing the fuck up. If I decide to do that.
To my girls: I know what your reasons are. And you have already made shit up to me ten times over. Besides, isn't it about time we celebrated Christmas?
And I am utterly alone.
Well, I should say, it is me and the dog.
People have texted. They've left messages on MySpace. Which is all well and good.
However, for once in my life, I really wanted to do it up right. I've never had a huge birthday shindig. I mean, yeah, when I was little, I had all the girls in my class for cake and slumber parties. But really - since I've hit the age of 21, I've done shit.
People love for me to come to their little get togethers. They love that I think of them, finding small little gifts, even if they are inexpensive, that just made me think of them.
But can these people be bothered to come out to our bar, buy me a drink, and actually look me in the face to wish me a good year? No.
Fact of the matter: there are few people in this world that actually give a rat's ass about you. If you have a few best friends who would take a bullet for you, treasure them. Keep them close. Because they are the ones who make the shitty birthdays and holidays feel better.
Maybe I've gotten more cynical over the years. But how can I not, when I purposefully invited all these people two weeks ago. They all said, "Yeah! I'll be there!" I purposefully made sure it would be someplace everyone could get to by car, that they knew where it was...and of course...they are all flaking out. Yet again, it is me. Even my truest, best friends can't really come out, due to work or various other reasons.
I feel like just screaming: FUCK YOU! to every single person I've ever given a gift to. Ever made a last minute card stop for, ever bothered to buy a beer on their day. Because at least my ass was there.
So, here it is:
to those of you who just blew me off like a piece of shit:
FUCK YOU.
And never expect any more from me on your days than just showing the fuck up. If I decide to do that.
To my girls: I know what your reasons are. And you have already made shit up to me ten times over. Besides, isn't it about time we celebrated Christmas?
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