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The Birthday.

November 17th, 2003 § 1 comment

I feel as if something should happen. That I should stumble upon some bourgeoning explosion that will somehow make everything the way it has been socially constructed to occur. But its not going to because it’s over that simply, because it’s just past midnight & somehow I am one year older as of this moment. Somehow one day determines your age & since that day you are placed in some bullshit social category that is so arbitrary but yet still weighs so heavily on cultural rules. I remember watching a Blossom episode as a youngen in which she didn’t want to celebrate her (17th?) birthday & was feeling depressed because she felt she was getting old too fast for her to handle. I’ve been turning 19 for a few years now & it’s become a joke in my circle of friends because only the select few know my real age unless they’ve deciphered it somehow. I’m in complete denial of my age because it’s coming too fast & time doesn’t wait yet I let myself wait; for what? For the explosion that cannot occur unless I provide it with the reactors & I’ve been trying but I let everything enervate me. Yes, typically – I fell into a lapse of a birthday depression today & cried my eyes out because my life is pulling me in directions I cannot keep up with & I have let too many people become my friends instead of letting them stay as acquaintances that don’t necessitate expectation & as always my life is more fucked up than a Picasso painting. But I’ve incurred this. The predicament lies in the nature of the I, the I we have grown up to believe is the source of our problems. Guilt pisses me off, self-deprecation pisses me off, the whole category of feeling like a bad person pisses me off. It’s all so ridiculously perpetuating the depressed culture we live in.

What is the point of celebrating the day you were born every year? What does it matter really? Wow, I survived another year so therefore I must have a celebration that puts me under pressure to perform my birthday duties & I better be as nice as I can because any negativity will be automatically judged as the birthday girl being selfish because it’s her birthday & she must please & accommodate everyone. It’s always a paradox of the need/don’t want dichotomy isn’t it?

At least I did so much blow it felt like it was bursting out of my eyes & got to make out & was felt up by this hot girl who was looking for a sexy girl at the club & my friend introduced me to her. She had tattoos & skateboards & I have no idea what her name was.

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§ One Response to The Birthday.

Hi hi... your words mean everything to me.