The Party

...to youuuuuuu.

I'm not big on birthday songs - or birthdays at all - but this is different. I'm a self-diagnosed attention whore and everyone is looking at me, celebrating me, singing to me. I'm in my element right now. I laugh a little, look down and mess with my hair. I've got an image to uphold, after all.

I thank everyone then turn and give my buddy on guitar one of those manly handshake-hugs, place the microphone back on its stand and hop off the stage. See, I could prolong the moment, but then these people might begin to realize the truth. It's for their own good; some people can't handle that truth. I know I can't.

Now that I've been sung to it's time for it: the cake. I don't like cakes any more than I like birthday songs, and this cake is no exception. Between my name and "Happy Birthday" is the photographic representation of the biggest lie I have ever been party to. I can barely bear to look at it.

But I force myself to stare. I try to see what my mother sees in this 2D subterfuge. Instead I get lost in imaginings I know were never real. I hate this picture and the happy childhood memories I can't remember. I'm hungry for my cake, but this image makes me want to vomit. I force myself to swallow and realize that if I truly hated it so much it wouldn't be there.

I never seem to know what I'm really thinking.

I never seem to know when I'm thinking, either...

I say to myself as I tilt my head up out of habit and realize I'm sitting in someone else's apartment with a beer in my hand. I don't remember how I got here, but that doesn't matter. I look around and see everyone that matters to me right now.

This is officially amazing.

"You're only saying that because you've got a beer in your hand."

My beautiful, straight-edge girlfriend sits on my lap and plants a kiss on my cheeck before I realize she's replying to what I've apparently said out loud.

"Probably. But I'm saying it again and really meaning it this time because you're here. This is officially amazing."

"Well it's only taken like, 5 months. Don't you wish this all had happened on your actual birthday?"

"Who cares. All that matters is it's happening. Now shut up and kiss me, pretty lady."

I smirk to prove I'm halfway kidding and she obliges. Just when I think the rest of my life will never live up to this moment, her hand drifts to my head and she runs her fingers through my hair.

I don't know how I made it here, but there's no way in hell I'm moving.

Entrance or Exit

The lock barely makes a sound as it turns. I've done this too many times before to fuck it up now.

cliiiiii-cck.

cliiiii-cck.

I should breathe a deep sigh of relief here, but I can't. I can't because I know it's not safe until I distance myself from this door. Away from the door I can lie to my heart's content. With only a few choice words I can cause the kind of doubt and confusion others have so happily tortured me with.

While I grin at my beautifully spiteful thought, I realize this door represents everything that's wrong around me and suddenly I can't get away from it fast enough. I don't make a move, though, because silence is key. I can't be silent and quick at the same time.

I've always hated snakes but I'd kill to be one now. I'd speedily slither into the darkness. I'd slip away from this damn door and be done with it. And the second the coast was clear I'd hissss that devilish snake hiss because I finally get to show them - show everybody.

I take my hand off the door. The loss of contact with it makes that feeling return - the eerie feeling that keeps me up nights and mornings. The feeling breeds an uncertainty so deep that I begin to question my own existence. Now I can't remember where I'm going. Hell, I can't even remember where I've been.

That doesn't matter, though. Something inside is pushing me to move forward, no matter where forward leads. I can think about my surroundings later - all that matters is that I keep moving. At least if I'm moving I can convince myself of my realness, of my existence; I can't do that if I'm standing still. That's what I'll do, then. I'll keep moving.

With the problem solved, the dialogue in my head ends for now. I tilt my head up out of habit and realize I've been staring a hole through the floor tiles.

Toto, I'm sure as hell not in fucking Kansas anymore.

I laugh at my own joke because no one else will.

I have to think about it for a second, but I know exactly where I am. I don't remember how I got here, or where I'm trying to go, but that's not important right now. All that matters is I'm finally away from the door...