Birth of A Hypocrite
Tomorrow is my birthday!
I’m rarely satisfied.
It doesn’t matter how much love I’m given if I always feel like I could be given more.
A queen deserves the best, right?
If you read this — please write this maddened maiden a letter, if possible. All she wants is to know what people think. The innermost workings of one’s brain. How they feel for her, how they see her, how they see themselves.
As long as your entirety is poured into it, she’ll gladly embrace you.
Tomorrow is my birthday!
It’ll go well, and I’ll be happy, and no tears will be spent because everyone will tell me their Honest—To—God thoughts.
No more secrets.
No more tears, no more crying, no more lying sighing, or dying.
Tomorrow, for that moment.
I want it to be a day worthy of the ones I’m closest to — I want to talk to you and think, “Wow, I’m so happy I’m on Earth to have this connection.”
I want an excerpt from your diary, it doesn’t have to include me but…
What joy it would be if anyone thought about me when it wasn’t my birthday!