Nobody loves me, everybody hates me. Think I'll go eat some worms.
12:17 p.m. - 2005-06-19

Happy birthday to me.

Not really, though. Hardly anyone has even acknowledged that it's my birthday, and even fewer people have made any effort at all to make me feel like they're glad I was ever born. I hate the whole "Oh, poor little me, no one cares" mood that I've worked myself into, but between the hormones and the fact that neither my husband nor my mother even BOTHERED to get me a present it's almost impossible not to feel that way.

I mean, I know that birthdays become less of an event the older you get, and I think this is the one where I probably should just be pretending that I really didn't even want anyone to remember at all. Isn't 25 where it all starts to go downhill? I'm no longer in my early twenties, after all, and that's enough to make me damn near ancient in this day and age. I don't FEEL that old, though, and I can't help wishing that someone would act like it's a special day.

And dammit, I can't even drink myself into a state of pleasant numbness. I guess I'll go eat something instead.

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I am: so very many things. A mother, a wife, a dreamer, a lover of animals and babies, a friend. I've been called a bitch, but if that's what you call someone who stands up for what they believe in and refuses to settle, then I guess the title fits.

loves: my family, horses, a full night's sleep, puppy breath, my daughter's laughter, thunderstorms, bubble baths, makeup, soft sheets, David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs, wine, massages, the written word, and sour straws.

dislikes: closed minds, depression, pimples, extreme heat, math, panic attacks, black licorice, doing laundry, white chocolate, gin, Bush.