the miserable life of a miserable teenager

Try to blow out my trick candles.

Open my pie-to-the-face presents.

Then cry till I run out of tissues.

Why’d I even invite people?

I knew they wouldn’t come.

My dress is wrinkled

and my hair’s frizzy.

The ice cream cake melted

and my heart broke.

Who cares?

I don’t even need a pity party.

What’s the point in celebrating another year on this disgusting planet anyway?

Let’s celebrate my fucking death tonight instead.

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