I cried to sleep on my 13th birthday.
On May 5th, I celebrated one of the most miserable days of my life; the day when I was born. I hate growing older. I got flipped off during my birthday. God must hate me, he makes every part of the year incredibly miserable. I wish I wasn't alive, I fucking hate all of this. I haven't told anyone in real life, because I'm too socially awkward to. I have nothing worth living for. I don't know what's the point of a birthday is if all it does is make you feel shittier.