My twenty third birthday looms ever closer, one week closer to be exact. Normally I’m a sucker for my birthday, I pump myself up months before. This year it kind of crept up on me, I didn’t even realize it was next week til yesterday. It seems strange to me this year, almost foreign. This will be my first birthday without my best friend. I don’t have many friends and the ones I do have don’t remember my birthday unless I tell them the day before. I find that kind of cheating though. It doesn’t count if I have to remind someone of the most trivial detail of myself, something that sets me apart from absolutely no one. Every one has a birthday. She always remembered though. We’d make arbitrary plans, future dates for drinks and food that would never come to fruition. She was the biggest flake I knew, and I was okay with that. The fact she remembered, hearing her say I love you, I’d kill for it just one more time.
So here I am, a week from twenty three, with absolutely no prospects. No grad school acceptance letter yet, no full time job, no money. It’s 8:00 pm and I’m fighting anxiety with a beer in hand and my ears tuned to Supernatural. I really want to be happy tonight, I do.