shrunk
The truth is, the only birthday card I received was from my therapist.
The truth is, the only birthday card I received was from my therapist.
It's my sixteenth birthday and I've only gotten happy birthdays from a radio DJ and a website.
On my thirteenth birthday my parents gave me the best toys money could buy, and then in a moment of playful distraction they broke down and announced: "We are not your biological parents."
He sent me flowers on my eighteenth birthday with a note that said "Glad you're legal."
This year, on my birthday, I will eat alone at the restaurant where I spent my happiest birthday which eventually turned into the birthday which made me despise birthdays.
My parents filed for divorce on my brother's birthday but waited to tell us until mine that next week.
You know you're a lonely person when you have to bake your own birthday cake.
Insignificant, I am the mother of a 25-year-old son for whom I neither baked a cake nor mailed a birthday card--I did call him--and I want you to know that perhaps your mother feels as guilty as I do about it and that we LOVE YOU--our precious sons--despite our laziness.
I've been counting down to my 18th birthday on a calendar with the heading "# of days of childhood left", but I'm too busy with college to build a fort or play freeze-tag.
It's nice when someone hands you a present and you realize that though you forgot your own birthday, someone else remembered.
Instead of a birthday, I got a "found naked pictures of his female online friends on our computer"-day.
I will never respect someone so deeply as my brother, who came to my birthday when my friends and four other brothers all decided that they had more fun things to do.
I finally stopped keeping in touch with my high school boyfriend when he sent me a list of bad things in history that had happened on my birthday.