Birthday thoughts. in The Devil Beneath My Feet

It’s not my birthday, that was last month, but I have some thoughts I wanna try and pour out because I’m tired of them taking up space, festering in a dim corner of my mind.

I’ve never liked my birthday and genuinely wish people would just forget it. I don’t like the attention, I don’t like the fakeness that goes with it. No one actually gives a shit how my day is because if they did they’d just fuckin listen to me and not make a big deal out of it.

I turned off the public birthday setting on Facebook and literally two people actually remembered it, and neither of them were my mother which I thought was hilarious and extremely fitting.

Idk man birthdays - specifically celebrating one’s birthday, feels real weird when you’re also suicidal. Like I don’t wanna be here, and we both know damn well that if I died tomorrow a whopping six people would even notice, and only because I wouldn’t be around to do shit for them anymore. Stop acting like you give a shit, it’s annoying and rude.

I swear to fuck if one more person tells me how goddamn “funny” I am I’m gonna fuckin lose it.