Cellophane

You are 22
And you live on Avenue Q

Even with the Facebook reminders nobody really seemed to realise it was my birthday. The only people I really heard from are people I don’t really talk to and the people I do talk to obviously didn’t care, with only a couple exceptions. It’s just a reminder that I don’t have anyone in my life that I feel right about considering a friend, which I try to ignore the other 364 days of the year. I just don’t understand why nobody wants to be my friend and the few people who say they do never seem to have time or want to spend time with me, or if they do actually make plans with me they wind up canceling at the last minute. I haven’t felt this sad in so long.

Birthdays are stupid. I will age with time, but henceforth, my birthday no longer exists. What’s the point? It’s just like any other day, so there’s no reason to keep feeling disappointed year after year.

I’m awake in the infinite cold
But You sing to me over and over and over again

When it feels like my dreams are so far
Sing to me of the plans that You have for me over again

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands and pray
To be only Yours I pray
To be only Yours
I know now You’re my only hope

On the upside, I just got a MySpace comment from Wendi McLendon-Covey that says
“Hope you’re having a fantastic birthday!

Air Kisses, Wendi”
Wendi McLendon-Covey, the REAL Wendi McLendon-Covey as in Clemmy from Reno 911! As in my flipping hero.

Advertisements