Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday dear me,
Happy Birthday to me!
I hate my birthday. Maybe not hate, but I couldn’t be any less enthusiastic about it. It is treated with the same tolerated contempt as Christmas. Man, I’m such a miserable bastard.
Today is my 32nd birthday. I have deactivated wall posts on Facebook so that no-one can comment and let anyone who doesn’t know, know. Nobody at work is aware and nobody has said anything. I only need to get through to 3 o’ clock (less than two hours) and I’m home and dry without any embarrassing birthday fuss.
Maybe I will work out, one day, why I am the way I am.
