Get By

 My birthday was Sunday. Almost everyone forgot. I know birthdays aren’t really important, but even the people I see daily forgot. I know I shouldn’t be upset, but I am. I have been all week. Whatever. Corey came, and we went out to eat. That was nice. He seems to be the only one to give a shit. I just–I wish I was worthwhile for someone to take the time to set up some sort of shindig or something. Something with a lot of people. I wish I meant that much to someone. Surprise, people give a shit about you enough to all get together in the same place. That would be nice.

I’m twenty-three, and I’m still a loser with hardly any friends. Not much has changed since high school. I can’t even find someone decent to be in a relationship with.