Birthday

It's probably my ninth or tenth birthday. I am happy. I have friends. I haven't grown up to be the disappointment, yet. I haven't hurt anyone, broken their hearts yet. Innocent, young me. My only crime is not knowing the person I'd grow up to be. Sorry kid.

Ten days until my 26th birthday and what have I accomplished? Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Rather than doing something, I seem to bury myself in self-pity and expect the rest of them to fall in line. Our tradition of birthday week - which started in 2003 when Binx, D. and I started to hang out - is finally over. There won't be one this year because a rift has formed. Binx and I will still celebrate our birthdays - his is the day before mine - but D. is pretty much out of the equation in my life. To cure the ailments, one must remove the poison. I've vowed to remove all poisonous people from my life. There's only room for one self-destructive megalomaniac and he's writing this post.