Happy Birthday to me today. I've made this earth suffer yet another year. But really, who is the real sufferer? Is this the big cruel world, full of soulless mindless drones of men and women marching under the booming beat of words promising relief? Or is me? Am I the victim of this fairy-tale gone wrong? I can't be the villain for so long. Sooner or later the grand master of life's theater should switch the roles, audition me for the part of a breath-takingly engimatic young person with hope in the eyes and each line a witty punch line. I can't stay the way I am or else misery would swallow me whole instead of simply nibbling on the meat of my leg as a minor nuissance. I am not happy. Oh by I yearn for that happiness which I can still remember in the bright spotty vision of my past. I want to feel that childish wonder of Birthdays and pretend , if only for a moment, that the world will stop if I will it to. The whole freaking world would be under my feet because today I became part of it. I want to smile, and not the lemon bitter-sweet smile of knowing that yes... death draws nearer though with my luck the next time I cross the street would be my last. And looking back, there is disappoitment. I did nothing this year and the year after that doesn't look to bright either. People don't care. This is just another day in a sequence of equilly as dull and uneventful days.... but but I remember a time when this was a day of magic. When my mother, not the bitter bundle of flesh she is now, with a smile danced in the kitchen with the twirling fumes of freshly prepared dishes. When the people looked upon me as a flower of their existence instead of a weed. I can almost remember it if I try hard enough. I can almost grasp that wonderful dream of my existence's significance. Why must I grow up? Why? I want to go back through the golden gate of Eden's Garden from which I was so rudely thrown out of. Return me. That's all I want for my birthday. Return me.