Donnerstag, September 10

you can see my heart beating

Isn't it cruel? In less than an hour I'll be older than you ever got, ever will be. That's why I learned to hate my birthday: it reminds me of the fact that I'm living on, growing up, going on, and you are not. You're dead and there's nothing I can do about it. But this year it seems easier, not that the thought is less cruel or less present, but my birthday is. There's no hype like there usually is. My mother won't come into my room at precisely midnight to sing to me, there won't be any presents waiting for me the moment I wake up and my friends aren't pressuring me into throwing some big ass party. Right now, it seems like every other day. The only exception is that my housemate is baking me a cake and I'm cool with that. Everyone else here doesn't know it's my birthday anyway, so I'll give her the joy of making me happy and myself the joy of feeling loved. But other than that it's like every other day and I'll just smile to myself and imagine the day I will finally spend my birthday with him again.

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