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Why,
    why does this day,
    that marks my introduction to this world
    elevate itself above all others?
I do wish,
    I wish this was reality –
    that when the clock strikes midnight
    on this day, life suddenly magical.
It’s as if,
    as if, suddenly, I am happy –
    as if, suddenly, I am glad to be alive –
    as if, suddenly, I don’t resent this day.
Why is today happy?
Why is today good?
Why must I celebrate the day I abhor?
If a birthday was going to help my mental illness – I would have been cured before it even started.

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