Another year has gone without me doing anything worthwhile. My birthday stopped feeling special long ago. It's a day just like any other. Makes me wonder, though.
Am I too twisted to appreciate this day anymore? Or is this how it's supposed to work? Can anyone truly remain grateful for their continued existence? Mental milestones placed along the road, in equal intervals; our way of marking ourselves in the flow of time. Why is there a need to do so? Is there really?
My birthday shouldn't have any importance. It's not special. I'm not special. Unique, probably, but not special in any way.
I wish I could have stopped myself from becoming like this. Maybe a different me wouldn't hurt this much.