Why,
why does this day,
that marks my introduction to this world
elevate itself above all others?
I do wish,
I wish this was reality –
that when the clock strikes midnight
on this day, life suddenly magical.
It’s as if,
as if, suddenly, I am happy –
as if, suddenly, I am glad to be alive –
as if, suddenly, I don’t resent this day.
Why is today happy?
Why is today good?
Why must I celebrate the day I abhor?
If a birthday was going to help my mental illness – I would have been cured before it even started.
