happy effin bday to me

First of all… a big thank you to everyone who did wish me a happy birthday… I love you all to death. I mean… people I haven’t talked to since high school sent me happy bday messages through facebook. Probably cheating since they were reminded (as dale mentioned before) but still the thought that counts I guess.

But the one person I wanted to hear it from… nothing. I know he knew it was my b-day, because we’ve been shopping online for my present for the past few days. But couldn’t he even once have just said “happy birthday”? I know its stupid. Words… mean nothing. And I also know that guys do put a lot less emphasis on words and more on action. But even when I know exactly what the actions are saying, I like to–no I need to hear words as confirmation. The IM’s… tell me he’s thinking of me. The attention he gives me… tells me he cares about me. The time and money he spends on me… tells me he wants me to be happy. But just occasionally, could he say, ‘I care about you’; ‘I’m thinking of you’; or today, ‘have a happy birthday’.

You know, I probably would even be able to let that go if it weren’t for the fact that my parents didn’t even give me so much as a fucking card. I mean, my mom did get me a cake, which was nice… and I know they can’t really afford to get me a present, which I understand. But a card? Come on. Mom makes ’em on the computer, they don’t even cost her anything. Today was my effing 19th birthday. The first day of my last year as a teenager. And I felt all day as though it wasn’t anything more than just another day. When they sang happy b-day to me? My dad was half asleep on the couch. Corryn wasn’t even there… Pop-pop was tired… and mom-mom… god rest her soul…

I guess this is the price I pay for last year’s bday having been one of the best of my life, and then fucking up the rest of the year. Karma’s a bitch.

Happy effin birthday to me.