Birthdays are merely symbolic of how another year has gone by and
how little we’ve grown. No matter how desperate we are that someday a better
self will emerge, with each flicker of the candles on the cake, we know it’s not
to be, that for the rest of our sad, wretched pathetic lives, this is who we are
to the bitter end. Inevitably, irrevocably; happy birthday? No such thing.
