The Most Disastrous, Terrible, Horrifically Awful Birthday Ever

I went to sleep with my mouth open and I woke up with a soar throat. The medicine I took three spoonfuls of was expired and my mom is forcing me to go to the doctor because she’s worried it will make me ill. When I went to brush my teeth, there was no toothpaste left and as I was trying to squeeze any remnants left in the tube, the toothpaste splattered all over my face and the outfit I had been looking forward to wearing all week long. I washed my hair last night thinking I’d have time to straighten it in the morning or even give it a nice brush, but because of the toothpaste incident I didn’t have enough time to do anything to it at all. Now my hair is frizzy and I’m in sweatpants. On my way to school, there was an accident holding up traffic on the one-way only street to my highschool. I was late to first period. I guess it didn’t matter how long I took getting ready this morning afterall. Yet, I still look like a recluse troll who finally rose from the bridge I’d been living under my whole life. 

Today is my first day of highschool, but also my birthday. 

You might be wondering? Wait… It’s really your birthday? Then how come you didn’t mention your parents wishing you a happy birthday this morning? All are very good questions. I didn’t mention it because it never happened. My own parents forgot my birthday. 

Maybe this day will get better. At least that’s what I told myself to prevent the pulling of my own hair out. On my way to first period, I tripped coming up the stairs and scraped my knee. I saw some students pull their phones out in a last attempt to capture the humiliating moment. Luckily for me, I think they were too late. 

Shortly after the first bell rang, the morning announcements played and on came the birthday section. A feeling of relief came burrowing up my spine. I won’t be forgotten after all.  

I stand corrected. 

Not even the school, who quite literally has my birthday on file, remembered my birthday. 

This day couldn’t get any worse. 

Once again, I stand corrected. 

All day I was just looking forward to getting a slice of pizza at the cafeteria during lunch. After waiting in a very long line of students for food, it was finally my turn. There was no more pizza left. The student directly in front of me in line got the last slice. I had to settle for a peanut butter jelly sandwich instead. The crowded lunch tables proved that high school was nothing but a cliquey, unimpressive extension of middle school. Almost every table was filled. I just wanted to avoid the awkwardness of finding a seat I could sit in. I just couldn’t deal with that today. 

I ate near the janitor’s closet in the secluded restroom area of the cafeteria. Surrounding me were other misfits who also had no where else to sit for lunch. I came to accept my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was no slice of pizza, but it will do. I convinced myself of this until I actually took my first bite. The sandwich was so frozen, I couldn’t even bite into it. There was nothing on my plate that was salvageable. I’ve lost my appetite. 

On my way to my next period downstairs, a drink was suddenly spilled all over me by students from the upstairs balcony. Just when I thought the sweatpants couldn’t get any worse. Now, they were splattered with stains from a bright red juice. I had to go to the dean’s office to get a change of clothes. My sweats were practically designer compared to the school merch I was now covered in from head to toe. I looked like a complete disaster. 

I didn’t really try to fit in today. I kept to myself and minded my own business. Not making an effort to speak to anyone, I wasn’t spoken to. I liked it this way. The more people who surrounded or spoke to me, the more people I was reminded weren’t aware that it was my birthday. 

The one day a year that my life is celebrated. The one day a year I get what I want and nobody can call me out for it. I guess this year it just won’t happen for me. 

Finally, my first miserable day of high school was over. If this is what the next four years looks like, I have no idea how I’ll persevere. 

To top off such an excruciatingly exhausting day, I had to ride the bus home. Not long after I sat on one of the grimy seats, I got a headache from the never-ending chatter that erupted among the other students on the bus. I was always surrounded by a sea of people. How can one even think a thought to themselves in these conditions? I was bound to this prison and this was only the first day of my seven hundred and twenty day sentence here. 

After what seemed to be the longest ride of my life, I made it to my stop at last. All I have to do is walk about five minutes home and I make it to sweet, sweet refuge: my bed. I want nothing more than to fall asleep for the rest of the day and wake up to it not being my birthday anymore. On the way, another student who was walking home tried talking to me. I left my headphones in and pretended I couldn’t hear her. Today just wasn’t my day. 

Walking up the steps of my house and to the front door, I could hear my bed calling my name. Strangely enough, my parent’s car was in the driveway. They told me they would still be at work at this time. I didn’t think much more of it as I opened the door. Once it completely opened, the house lights flashed on and heads poked up and out from hiding as everyone collectively shouted, “Happy Birthday!” 

You’ve got to be kidding me. Now they decide to remember my birthday? 

This has got to be the most disastrous, terrible, horrifically awful birthday ever...