Birthdays are bloody stupid?!

When I was younger, I always wondered when older people began worrying about their birthdays. You know the kind: getting sort of shifty on the day, being a little tense the week before, reacting annoyed when people mention it. Turns out it’s around 27 for me. I mean, this is just awful! Who likes this?


I’m being serious! How did I ever look forward to this, with all of my misplaced excitement?! Always in quiet anticipation, ah, here comes the big day… I was a moron! This is not a measurement of life, this is just another tread on the ladder to death, and I can’t believe I didn’t see that before! A little bit further away from birth, a little bit closer to the end of it all! God, this is like when they begin seeing the thestrals in Harry Potter and you just know the series has graduated from a children’s show to a young adult slaughterhouse.

Nobody, I repeat, nobody is merry on the fifth of February.

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