So, I'm still here. Mowed the lawn this morning, or what I should really say is that I mowed one side of the lawn. Turns out I'm an inside puppy now. Of all the well-wishers that have been staggering in on Facebook, I still wish Velia was in town. She had to travel to the border on a family errand. All-in-all, this day turned out to be a day just like any other day. I was kind of hoping that she'd surprise me with a visit or something. You know, the hopes of a romantic at heart. We say we don't want to treat our birthday's any differently, but we hold out hope for that special someone to surprise us. At least, I do...did.

So what did I do? I rode to the nearest redbox to return movies, I mowed half the lawn, I bathed, I watched T.V., I read the Houston Chronicle and I've searched TWC for a job. And now I feel the tears of a worthless existence well up in my eyes with no hopes of shedding a tear. Have you ever thought about how painful it really is to cry? Hope not. My deluge is not one to be shared. I guess that's why I still have this thing - So I can let my fingers tell a sob story rather than turn into a sobbing (slobbering ) idiot.

I feel so disillusioned with life. I've been stuck at its curtails for so long, it's almost like being the sibling to a fire-fighting, astronaut, war-hero, politician. I'm the ugly sister to a Miss-America. It's almost embarrassing to want to be a part of people's lives when they'd rather take me a bit at a time. I've been told to stay home one too many times and the pain is becoming unbearable.

I want life! I want to be as happy as the next man seems to be! I want to love and be loved! I want to want and be wanted! I want to be cherished instead of taken for granted, discarded like some child's toy, left in some dark corner of a room filled with other toys that catch their attention before I have the chance to reveal my intricacies.

Who am I kidding! I've had my chance. I've had my time in glory and somehow messed up the scene. I am what I am and somehow I have proven lacking in what I was supposed to be like.

I'm being overwhelmed with grown-up issues mixed in with adolescent fancies. What's wrong with me?

33. I have an hour and fifteen minutes before I turn 33.

Do you know what's sadder than turning 33? Turning 33 alone. I'm sitting here, watching t.v. And there doesn't seem to be anything interesting on. I want to stay as sane as possible in this day and age, but I'm constantly being battered, torn down and thrown away. It's a theme in my life that doesn't seem to be getting any easier to cope with. My desires are unimportant and my life is on the verge of being meaningless. So, as I contemple my existence, what can I possible say to myself to keep me moving? It turns out that this test was a lot harder than I anticipated. As my fingers hurt as I type this on my phone, my spirit hurts as it moves forward through time.

Happy birthday to me.
Happy birthday to me.
Happy birthday to Jesus.
Happy birthday to me.

I hope everyone has a special day tomorrow. Wake up with the Sun and enjoy the light from within, and the light from without.