Sooo my super hot and totally famous boyfriend, Chace Crawford (you may have heard of him), just flew in all the way from New York to surprise me with a customized calendar of his naked modeling shots for my birthday. He also got me the 60 piece chicken Mcnugg combo from Mcdonalds, longer hair, a fingernail polish color that doesn’t repulse me, season 8 of One Tree Hill on DVD (which is impossible to find but he’s famous so whatever), new friends from Western I might actually like, and a coupon for 3873862 free orgasms: redeemable in birthday sex.
Blowing out the invisible candles in the Pumpkin Spice Latte I bought myself, which I’m totally cool with, because I all I really want for my birthday is my mom
…because …you miss me..
also, it’s a catchy tune
I don’t know why, but for some reason, I feel the need to stick every objective and materialistic item acquired on this night in my memory box. Deeming the scratched NOW 4! cd I stole from Bethie’s car sacred… is.. kind of more than ridiculous, and it’s not so much that I want to prevent my inevitable future. I just want to freeze time. See, time has a way of changing everything, and I just wish that in nine months, I could (and everyone else could) still feel as emotionally connected. The kicker is that when those nine months do roll around, I know I’ll probably be happy, in an evolved definition of the term. Happiness will mean new things. I won’t forget the old things, but my senses towards them will have dulled.
To my attempt at preservation,