The only reason why I’m not crying is because I heard you’re not supposed to cry with contacts.
It seems like most of my conversations with some people are just to tell them what the homework is, what the answers are, or if something is due.
“Happy fucking birthday. I hope this one is special.”
For those who wrote more than just a simple ass “Happy Birthday” on my Facebook. Thank you. I really, really appreciate it after such a crappy ass day. Those who SAID it and gave me a hug. Thanks. At least that made me smile. Especially, when Erica and Jonathan walked toward me, singing “Happy Birthday,” and gave me a group hug. That was a highlight to a terrible birthday.
Actions mean so much more than words. On the real.
I know I might be dramatic right now and I’m pretty sure I’m having that depressed mood swing before the womanly time of the month. I don’t even know. I don’t know if I’m sad. If I feel unappreciated or angry. I have no idea.
Even for those who did do something sweet, it’s hard for me to pick it back up when some of my closest friends did nothing.
My parents are old. I forgive them for forgetting. But some of my closest friends didn’t even say hi to me today. I pathetically, deliberately walked passed them twice like a dumbass. Or they were reminded by people I don’t even talk much to. I don’t know exactly how I feel about that.