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Guest2
Guest
I get feelings of dread towards my birthday; not because I'm one year closer to death, or because my looks will start to fade, but because it's a poignant reminder of just how alone you really are: a half-hearted "happy birthday" from your mother and a day spent like many others or maybe an awkward meal if you're lucky. I hate it because it's another year wasted, another year spent not progressing as the man I'm supposed to be.