Hello you. It's me again. I don't know what you think you're doing here- why you think you're welcome- but nonetheless you're here again. Right on time, early even.

Oh, I'm sorry, who is that? That is a little friend i like to call Birthday Blues-a.

Why I would ever expect ol' blue to miss our annual date, I couldn't say, I suppose I was figuring on being stronger than I really am. I suppose i thought I could just ignore it, just wish it away. But no, I have been beaten. As always I'm down for the count, this time in the 18th round.

What are birthday blues you ask? Truly lost and lonely souls might understand, but I will try to convey the purpose and painfulness of the birthday blues to you regular folk as well.

Birthday blues are a perfect blend of "poor me" and "when will this life be over?" The blues over-shadow every fear you may have had through the long and arduous past 365 days. All the doubt, sadness, disillutionment, pain, strife, and general ickiness you have ever felt in your life tags along with the blues, and let me tell you those are the most unwelcome guests ever.

Why oh why would someone ever have these dreaded blues you ask? When you come to the realization that you should have never been born, that everyone around you dispises your very creatioin and blames the whole natural fiasco of your birth on you, when the man who is resposible for half of your genetic make-up won't acknowledge your existence, even for a brief moment of his immature, self absorbed time, when you have no one with which to share all of your fears, doubts and qualms with life in general because you're too busy worrying about being acceptable and pleasing to them and making sure that they don't leave you alone and a-lonely like everyone else has mannaged to do, then, and only then you can know that you have met the Abominable Blues head on.

I am not trying to be melo-dramatic with this whole thing. I'm just trying to be real. I am trying to save the one shread of humanity I feel I possess from slipping away. I am trying to preserve my life; not my existence, but the very reason I breath at all from disapearing from the record books altogether.

I have a great joy in knowing that God is my Father, my Creator, and the Lover of My Soul.
But the Devil always gets me with these damned Birthday Blues.