I have always hated my birthday. It has usually been chill as the fall weather has started to steal the final summer day. I always have to go to class or do homework. I stopped getting gifts or a cake or even a "happy birthday" by my tenth. I began not telling new people my birthday altogether. But they never asked either. Those that did ask, well, they forgot. And I would trudge along in a dwindling relationship until finally they would just leave. Birthdays are supposed to be the one day that you get. The day everyone can celebrate you and your accomplishments. I used to wonder how many more birthdays I wouldn't celebrate. College has brought new life though. My freshman roommates baked me a cake. My sophomore roommates blasted 'September' through the dorm halls while I was paraded around in a birthday cape and crown. My junior year my boyfriend took me on a trip to Rome. Rome New York(so I could tell people I've been to Rome). I'm not sure how I got here, but somewhere along the way, I said goodbye to you.
