Happy birthday…


birthday baby

So here’s the thing: Why do most people treat their birthday like some sort of celebration? I see achievements for celebration, or cultural mile stones for celebration, but why the hell do we celebrate the day we were born? We didn’t ask to be born. We didn’t do shit when we were born. If anything the doctors or people who delivered us might celebrate if there were some extenuating circumstances to our birth worth celebrating, like being born in the car on the highway during rush hour traffic, and the father actually delivered you, then he should celebrate your birth not you. Maybe that’s what some parents do for their children, but the majority of people just like the excuse to have people they don’t really like over to their house a few times a year depending on how many curtain climbers they have to run around, gossip and talk shit about the fat kid in the bounce house. Ironic I think. I don’t live in movie, but I wish I did, some people actually think they do, or at least try to create that perception. You might be thinking “You’re over thinking it dude”, and you would be right. Happy birthday. I love you.

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