Tomorrow is my birthday. I woke up on Thursday, and stayed up all night and started my laundry at 10:30 Friday morning, and did it all day because I always put it off until there’s a sick amount of wash to do, and I had to do it because I’m going away on the 26th, and there needs must be clothes, and then I finally passed out shortly after 8pm, only to be awaken at 3 this morning with a calf muscle about ten minutes away from serious cramping. And I went down to the basement, and I folded the last of the sheets and brought them up, and there was going to be PopTarts, but then I realized they were at least a year old, and they were the icky kind without the laminated frosting, and so there was fish and chips instead. And I read and had a soda and its two hours later and I’m still up. I think I want another soda.

My birthday is tomorrow. So my best friend in all the realities is coming up later today, and spending the night, and tomorrow, we’re all going out to dinner. But my brother will probably be bringing his girlfriend, but no-one asked me if she could come. Maybe because they knew I’d say no? She’s very nice, and she has a decent sense of humor, and I think perhaps I like her, but she has buggy fish-eyes, and she makes red hair and pale eyes an ordinary, plain look, and it should be beautiful, and my best beloved gets very quiet when we go out to eat and its more than just me and her and maybe my parents, and she’s the only person I actually want there, except perhaps my mommy, and now she won’t be talking, and Erin and James aren’t worth that, they’re simply not worth that at all.

My birthday is tomorrow, and I want to cry. Its going to be a long and painful and unhappy day, and I do not wish to be there. I want to be left behind while the others go and celebrate it, for they love me more than I ever could, and find worth where I see naught but my own waste. Waste of life and breath and flesh and space and I never asked for it, I never wanted it, so why do I feel guilty for letting the hated and unwanted die a slow and lingering death? I’d end it swiftly if I had the strength, but if I had the strength, I’d be worth something, wouldn’t I?

My birthday is tomorrow. Please let me die tonight.