hildeguardog's Diaryland Diary



Sometimes I wonder if I'd remember my username and password if it wasn't saved as a cookie or whatever. I'm nervous about waking up in the morning. It's cool and all that people will be friendly with me and all but I'd rather not draw any attention. I was upset when Bubba found out it was my birthday. Not that I particularly cared if Bubba knew, but I'd prefer that my date of birth not be whored around to people I'm not even friends with. Bubba was a bad example, he's a genuinely interesting guy and has quite a sense of humor. Man, I don't even care about my birthday, I think that's what bothers me. The fact that I'm writing about this as a problem in the first place was confusing to me. But yeah, I think the fact that I don't care much about my birthday, accompanied necessarily by the fact that everyone else appears to be fascinated by it... I just never got it. I don't really care about other people officially getting older. I mean sure, I'll enjoy my 21st birthday, but that's because the law will recognize my ability to drink and whatnot. But what bothers my further about this March 11th is that other people share it with me, and that's supposed to be a big deal I think. Or so I was led to believe. But not caring + other people allegedly caring + the people who opt out of showing off their "appreciation" = confusion. I mean, if some people are so excited to wish me a happy birthday, why aren't the others? Am I on the same page as those other people?
Fuck it. When I get to thinking thoughts like these, where my emotions block me from clearly explaining my dilemma, it makes me really want to stop. Not die, nor move and start over.. but I don't feel like staying alive. I don't know, I don't necessarily feel suicidal. I respect myself enough not to force death upon myself. But at the same time, when I wonder whether or not I have any respect for the world around me, then I get to thinking...

1:08 a.m. - Sunday, Mar. 11, 2007


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