It's my birthday tomorrow. I will be 22. It's funny, because usually i love birthdays. I think they are fantastic and special and they should matter. I think people should make a big deal out of them and they should celebrate that their friends or family are there with them. And I should care about my friends birthdays and be glad they are in my life. Be glad they were born on this day however many years ago. You should feel important and wanted and cared about on your birthday. I love birthdays.
This year, however, my birthday is on a wednesday. Wednesdays in my life this semester are remarkably exhausting and flustering. and i am sadly beginning to realize, that for most people your birthday is just another day. it is something to write on your facebook wall and then forget about. No one else really cares about your birthday, and that is sad to me... my birthday is just another wednesday. But it is not to me. It is my birthday. I have now survived or squandered, or gifted, or lived twenty two years. And I will celebrate with me. despite the fact that it is wednesday
and i will remember to celebrate with you on your birthday, because if i know when your birthday is that means i am probably pretty glad you are here with me.
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