Stop the ride! I want to get off! I don't want to remember that your birthday is this Friday. I don't want to think about how you should be turning 31. You were 29. Dead at 29. In less than two weeks I turn 32. You are dead at 29. You should be 31. This Friday.
The other day, I logged into your facebook, and an old friend of yours commented on the most recent profile pic I posted of you- the one where you are holding your niece Elianna. He sent you a message saying something along the lines of, "Hey hey, long lost friend, feels like yesterday we were getting into trouble, and now it looks like we're both bouncing babies on our knees, heh heh, ha ha, lol..." I hate him. I don't know him, but I hate him. I'm sorry.
I love you too much to get over you sometimes. I hate birthdays.
I promise to write a nicer post before month's end. Just let me rant for a little first, okay?
The other day, I logged into your facebook, and an old friend of yours commented on the most recent profile pic I posted of you- the one where you are holding your niece Elianna. He sent you a message saying something along the lines of, "Hey hey, long lost friend, feels like yesterday we were getting into trouble, and now it looks like we're both bouncing babies on our knees, heh heh, ha ha, lol..." I hate him. I don't know him, but I hate him. I'm sorry.
I love you too much to get over you sometimes. I hate birthdays.
I promise to write a nicer post before month's end. Just let me rant for a little first, okay?
