I dread this time of the year

by ale

Neglect is a feeling I have always known. To me it’s not a verb, it’s a noun.

It’s been with me since the beginning of toy trucks and barbie dolls. To when they disappeared, sold to the salvation army. Much like my spirit to all of you.

From the age of 10 I cried every year on my birthday. And just when I thought I had completely detached at a ripe age of 18, I received a string of “sorry I couldn’t make it” messages. Make what?? I’m not sure either. Probably as friends.

Good to know you’re being put on a pedestal of insignificance, a successful turn-off.