The birthday cometh

bloody two bloody days to go.
*looks at clock*
screw that.
one day to go.

fucked. i is definitely fucked.

The thing i have learnt is that the older i get, the less i want to get older.
what happened to birthdays being fun and amazing??
i vaguely remembered a time when i would be so high and so happy and so full of joy and hope for a new and older me.
what happened?
maybe it stopped after my 21st, a birthday i spent with a group i thought were friends for life, and for a while I felt truly happy, truly blessed.
I thought, who needs a wild night of drunken debauchery when you can eat fudge cake with your best friends and laugh yourself sick?
fufge cake wasn't enough.
now I regret the lack of debauchery.
I want the debauchery.
Unfortunately, due to us being in the month of holy ramadan, no form of debauchery is available. I can't even get a booty call. whatever that is.

yay me.

and now a whole week of self pity and wallowing follows.
they're going to take me out for sushi, and i love that.
I just wish i wasnt celebrating another year of doing nothing worthy. of not making any of the things i had on that stupid list.
maybe i should stop making that list.
but the day i stop making it is the day i grow older, and i dont want to ever be that.

oh god.

someday i'm going to be thirty two.
THIRTY TWO.

I WILL BE A BLOODY BRIDGET JONES.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

THIRTY BLOODY TWO!

FUCK!