Well… I’m 22. Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me… happy birthday dear Matt… ah fuck it, who am I kidding.
There’s a note on the counter mentioning that my parents are gone to a double-header hockey tournament this afternoon. They don’t know when they’ll be back but that we “might have time to get food if it’s not too late.” How nice of them. My plan of sleeping until 4 in the afternoon as gone horribly wrong mostly because of the damn phone which won’t stop ringing. If they were birthday well wishers that would be one thing, but when a telemarketer wakes you up at 8am on your birthday you just have to unleashe a little anger in their general direction. Hopefullt AT&T got the hint this time. Then again, maybe I was swearing so much they couldn’t understand what I was getting at.
I think at this point I’ll probably just get up. I don’t have any plans for the day and nor should I. I’ll leave the house at someone’s request but I’m not going out of my way to do anything in perticular. Since my parents leave for my birthday each and every year my usually routine is to order a pizza with there credit card and watch movies all day. Too bad I can’t find they’re credit card.
I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m writting this. No one gives a shit. I should just go back to bed. I hate birthdays. They don’t make me feel “happy or special”, they make me feel like shit. No one is ever around for them, my parents dont care and my gifts just get added to Chirstmas. So whats the point in having a birthday in the first place.