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Jane Doe
My birthday came and went a few days ago. I worked. I think it was the first time ever I worked on my birthday.
This year I came to the realization that celebrating the day I was born is really hypocritical. Most of the time I am on the edge of considering instant death, so celebrating my life is, evidently, just not my style.
Also, I have no friends, so what's the point? No parties, no presents, no much of anything. My birthday has officially become just another special day to remind me how totally isolated I am and how pointless my entire existence is.
I did get one card from the girl I've known since 4th grade. She's nice, and it's very, very nice to have one person in this world I actually call a "friend" without some sort of limiting adjective attached, such as, a "school friend" or a "work friend" or an "email friend" or whatever.
Even though I have not seen her in about 13 years (maybe longer) and we really only email each other a few times a year, we always seem to remember each other's birthdays. I think she needs a friend as much as I do. We don't really have anything in common except our past, but I need at least one "friend" in my life, so I hold on tight.
My birthday has become a reminder that the wheel will never stop turning, that time is running out, and the odds are I will just sit still and watch as it all happens to me and then I will die alone and no one will care.
Not feeling sorry for self, just stating the most probable outcome.
Either I am a big asshole, or everyone else is.
Honestly, I know this is my fault, partly.
I work very hard to keep everyone out.
No one can stab you in the back when your back is against the wall.
Evidence this by how many diaries I have added while back on D-land. I refuse to form any new bonds, because they will just be future scars to regret later on. I am sick of everyone disappearing, so I will just remain invisible from the start.
9:45 PM - Sunday, Jul. 14, 2013
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