It is the day, for I shall be thankful for my many gifts and my birth certificate
is a stronger presence in the room than it was before. It isn’t the day
my childhood is over, my dearest darling has said to my sorrows.
While my skin is growing thicker, I’m not really getting any older.
And while my hair grows a bit longer, I’m still the same type of tall,
and will probably be that way until my skull is the only thing left of my body.
It is the day which I’ve dreaded and which I’ve been fixated on, as it is fine
to celebrate in secret. No one knows, and no one has to know unless they voluntarily want to.
It’s all going to be okay. Say it like a mantra. Say it until my veins are cold
and the windows of my eyes are seeing stars.