I hate my birthday. It's a long standing tradition to hate it, but this year, I seemed to have been lulled into a false sense of cheery good feelings about it. Till tonight. Now I remember why it's a stupid day that isn't worth acknowledging. Note to self: don't get suckered in next year! Considering how crashingly depressed I am right at this moment, by Sunday, I should be a complete basket case. Go me.