It's my birthday today — how come I feel sick? Everyone smiles on their birthdays, so where is my end of the stick? I wonder, 'maybe it will come another day.'.
Maybe?
Mom and dad are at work; hopefully, they come early today. I'm not sure, though — I think they are busy.
The sun is always red; I think he is a hothead. His light is divine and has a bright essence, but it hurts when I'm exposed to his presence. I've thought about the reason many times. Auntie says it's because I'm naughty. I think she says it from experience — she seems incredibly haughty. I hope that is why the sun does not like me, and not because I'm dirty.
I hope today's filled with joy; I want to celebrate my youth as I'm getting older. The static voices are all I hear. Could it replace the silence I've held so dear? Nobody has said happy birthday, or a simple hello. Maybe they are busy? I do not know.
I saw a bird get killed by a hawk today. I stifled a little laugh — it looked like something Auntie would do. However, I am a little afraid, scared of what she could do. I seem to be hated a lot. I don't know why.
I have discovered something interesting during these past few days. My teeth seem to get sharper every day. Like thorns on a rose or the spines on a sea urchin. I do not understand it, but it is pretty neat. Maybe Auntie is right — this is how she described me to be.
It's my birthday; I thought I would be less hungry. Mom and dad have yet to greet me. It's okay, though — they said they love me.
Why can't I get myself to let streams fall down my eyes? The prickly stinging of my eyes drying out, the sticky slaver coming down my mouth, let myself burst into a million tears. I've tried and tried a million times, but all my attempts seem to wane.
I want to cry and feel all of my pain.
Why won't that happen? It's my birthday.