I wonder if I'm the only person out there who actually doesn't care about birthdays, but holds up the appearance that she does just so that she doesn't have to deal with the whys.
Today I turned 25. A quarter of a century. Big freaking deal.
Want to know how I've celebrated so far?
By cleaning the house, doing dishes and laundry, going to a job interview, grocery shopping and having the mother of all headaches.
Sound like a fun birthday? Nah, I didn't think so.
I know I'm just being a pessimist, but I am who I am. I'm sick of this birthday shit and it isn't even over. I can't say anything though, because John has actually attempted at planning something, and I don't want to hurt his feelings. Oh well.
Now to pack the trailer. Like I said, awesome birthday.
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