21

Happy 21st Birthday, me. It's going to be a fucking great day to remember, even if my dad has royally screwed me over. I won't get into it, but I certainly wasn't surprised; a little hurt, maybe. But I am pissed at the disparity in treatment I get compared to my brother, the boy who makes my father's life a living hell, yet still gets treated like a prince. I don't pretend to understand it, and trying to make sense of it will only give me a headache and cause a rise in my blood pressure. I can't let that happen, now can I, especially if I plan on living until I have the financial means to send my father into the shittiest old folks home Florida has to offer, a place where the helper monkies beat the seniors with bamboo shoots.

Oh well, that's the way the cookie crumbles. I must remember that my birthday isn't about what I receive in material possessions, but what I get in wonderful memories and experiences with the people that I cherish.

Once again, Happy f'n Birthday, to me.