Ah.

So a couple days ago I grew old. I've always wondered why we celebrate birthdays. It's not like for 364 days age was just standing still and then all of a sudden at midnight it realises it's been slacking and decides to go into overdrive. I guess I'm this way because I've grown up very cynical and attention seeking - I think I might be getting Histrionic Personality Disorder, or something like that.
Anyway, this year I spent my first birthday (almost completely) alone. Facebook and Twitter kept me company (I should say thanks once again), my mum and my brother called, but my dad probably didn't even remember. Not that it matters. His hubris has done so much damage a forgotten birthday's a trifle.
Maybe I should tell a story of a birth. A woman having a caesarean without her husband there to hold her hand, giving birth to a son in what was at the time the coldest winter in living memory (damn you 09/10), and being unable to leave the hospital for a month because it was so bloody cold. I was born 3 weeks late, which might explain my predisposition to procrastination (I know I can be verbose, forgive me)
I don't know why I'm writing this really, it's probably going to end up as an incoherent piece of tripe. But at least I'll have written a bit of the misery I often feel out of my heart and into cyberspace. You see for me the internet is an escape, an escape that only books could give me in time past. So yes, I am grateful for the internet and I will always defend it when people say negative things about it. That something can be used wrongly doesn't mean it's bad. But I digress. Wildly.
I initially meant this to be an appreciation to all the people who've got me here one way or the other. So let me just say thank you. If you read this and think my gratitude is addressed to you, then it probably is. 
I should stop here cos I'm not having one of my better days. Fuck this.