Look. I don’t know whose birthday it is.
I just woke up one day with frosting-coloured freckles and NINE (I meant 8 - maths isn't my forte) hearts sticking out of me like some kind of love landmine.
No one explained the assignment. Am I cake? Am I décor? Am I emotionally available? (Debatable.)
Sometimes... I wonder if people love me or just love how I look.
Whatever. At least I’m not basic.
Anyway – Happy Birthday, I guess.
I hope you brought snacks.