Tuesday, April 27, 2010

the truth about birthdays

I hate my birthday. I honestly do. It's the most depressing day of the year. I'm old and wise enough by now not to expect anything special to happen, and I know ahead that nothing special would take place, but there's still that tiny grain of hope that ruins at all.
I just want to wake up one morning, on my birthday, and hear "Happy Birthday, babe" from my husband, before I hear anything else. I want to get cards (not even gifts, just cards!!) from more than 2 people. I want friends to come over. I want a party. I don't want to have to bake my own cake. Again. I'm not even bothering with it this year. I'd love for a friend I haven't seen in awhile to finally reply to my emails - or give me a call. I'm not asking for anything big, not really.All I want is for this day to be just a little bit better than the other days of the year.

Argh! I don't even remember the last time I had a birthday party. Since I can't have a birthday party, I think I'll have a pity one.

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