I haven't celebrated mine in years. I understand that birthdays are a celebration of your life, and most people are thankful for being alive. They're happy that they got to spend one more year on this Earth. But I hate my life. I'm here out of a sense of duty for my parents. When they're gone, I'll be gone too. I can't accept myself the way I am: ugly, short, balding. Maybe that's why I hate birthdays; I don't see the point of celebrating something that I hate so much: my life.
