i’m 20 and i’ll cry if i want to

cloud420

my birthday was on friday the 13th this year, because i’m a spooky fucking bitch

i have a lot of birthday angst, and i don’t really know where it comes from because i’m not particularly salty about the reality of like being older or anything. i hate christmas too and i don’t really know where that comes from either even though the reasons i give for why i hate christmas are as follows:

  • it is a capitalist shitshow
  • my extended family is very conservative and i am a queer brat, and christmas is the only time i am ever actually near them because plane tickets are very expensive
  • it’s way too much for way too long
  • i am not down with the good lord jesus christ

but none of those are my actual reason for hating christmas. truthfully it just makes me feel like shit garbage, just like my birthday, maybe partly just because it always has. last year i went on a “trying to like christmas” kick, meaning i went ice skating and made cookies and both those things were good but i still felt the entire month of december feeling like a slimy bowl of cold pasta.

here are some possible reasons i could give for hating my birthday:

  • getting older -> getting dead
  • i am an unlikable troll and nobody should pay attention to me
  • birthday plans are just destined to get fucked up
  • nothing means anything anyway

here’s why i actually hate my birthday

  • ???

last year i had an incredibly stressful test on my birthday so the next day i was like fuck it and went and got a piercing and a slice of pizza and saw a movie by myself, which was awesome because i got to do the whole thing alone and nobody knew it was my birthday i was just the small girl sitting in the back of nightcrawler who kept touching her own ear and wincing. in the spirit of just doing the shit i wanna do/being a self indulgent brat and not actually celebrating this year i went to the mall alone and bought some things and also received some unwelcome attention from a dude at the food court because why the fuck not. except i had this internal monologue the whole time which was basically “treat yourself” and “capitalism is really fucked up but is socialism any better” fighting each other like two male bettas.

“presents” i bought for myself in the week leading up to my birthday:

  • vanillary lush perfume
  • fairy dust (also lush — this is fucking glittery pink like powder and oh boy i’m so down)
  • a giant pink pom pom keychain (i have waited my whole life for you, little pom)
  • a floral corset from a sex shop
  • a lacy purple bralette

last year i also told a bunch of people off and quit things, but i can’t do that this year because i never actually stopped doing it after my birthday last year. i really like the idea of being recklessly self indulgent and not putting up with shit, but the truth is now i call people out when i think they’re being trash and they rarely actually care. i’m cool with burning bridges because the united states has a rapidly crumbling transportation infrastructure anyway so what damage is it really gonna do, and i could go all “no vaseline” about this on this here personal weblog but i’m tired.

xoxo,
rori

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