I hate birthdays. There, I said it. Let me be a bit more specific. I’m not talking about the presents, balloons or cake. I’m referring to the build up, the expectation.
The inevitable disappointment. Year after year. Isn’t that the definition of insanity? Don’t get me wrong, amidst the chaos and disappointment, I have managed to have quite a few happy birthdays.
I remember some of them. That was before sobriety. As long as I can remember I’ve felt compelled to create the perfect birthday.Read more on themighty.com