Birthday Wishes

I waited. I waited all day, my phone sitting quietly in my pocket. The day passed slowly, my close friends and family all coming over to wish me a happy birthday and to give me the gifts they bought. None of it mattered though. All I wanted was for him to call, to hear his voice. And he didn't. I gave him so fucking much and he couldn't even call to wish me a happy birthday? Was it because I didn't matter enough to him, or did he just not give a shit? As much as I hated it, I cried. Tears fell from my eyes, coating my cheeks with water.

I sat on my couch and tangled my fingers in the string of a balloon, my heart getting a bit heavier. Then, I realized that I shouldn't feel bad. No, I should feel angry. Very, very angry. I started to pace the room, my hands clenched. I could feel my face flush and my heart quicken. "I'm gonna kill him," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "I'm just gonna fucking kill him. That'll make me feel better."

I growled with irritation and looked at the clock. Ten to eleven. I licked my lips, making my decision. In a hurry, I picked up my cars keys and left, slamming the door behind me.

It took me all of ten minutes to get to his apartment. I wasn't really driving the speed limit, and I didn't care. All I cared about was wringing his scrawny neck with my bare hands.

I skidded to a stop in front of the complex and got out, locking the doors behind me. As I approached the front steps, I tripped-which only fueled the fire growing inside me. Hell, I was so mad, I couldn't even really see straight.

Sure, maybe I was taking it a bit too far, and maybe I was getting worked up. But, if I wasn't angry, I would cry-and I was sure as hell not going to shed anymore tears over him.

I stood up and wiped the gravel off my hands and knees, grunting as I opened the main doors. I practically hopped the steps three at a time, rushing to see him. When I was finally outside of his door, I ground my fingers into a fist and pounded-loudly.

"What the fuck?" I heard him say. He opened the door, his eyes opening wide. "Em? What are you doing-"

I pushed him. I pushed him hard enough he fell right to his ass. Then, I stepped over him and kicked the door shut, my face set in a grim line. "You are the fucking devil." I told him.

He gave me a questioning look. "What are you talking about?" He hopped to his feet. "And why in the hell did you push me?"

"Because you deserved it!" I yelled, pushing him again. He didn't fall, but did stumble back a couple steps.

"Dude, what the-"

I knocked him upside the head. "Tell me what today is?" I demanded.

"I don't know, the ninth? What are you talking about?"

I shook my head. "I cannot fucking believe it. You know what? Go fuck yourself, okay?" Hot tears washed to my eyelids, and even though I blinked them back ferociously, some spilled over. I turned to leave, but thought better, turning back to him. He was still looking at me, confusion in his eyes. "I'm a damn good friend, and I'm always fucking here for you. Especially when you come over at night, whining about how some bitch left you for another guy. Do I tell you that you should suck it up and grow a pair? No. I tell you that she's a whore and. . .and other shit to make you feel better, because that's what friends do. I always answer your calls, even though you practically never answer mine. I-I-I do so much for you!" I stopped, my hands flying around me as I talked, wringing through the air.

My mouth gaped open, and suddenly, I knew. "I'm not doing this anymore," I whispered.

"Em, what are you talking about?" He asked again, stepping a bit closer.

I looked up at him, allowing my tears to spill. "I love you." I confessed. "But you can't even remember my birthday. And that's what hurts so much."

"Oh, shit. . .your birthday. Em, I'm so sorry, I forgot! There was this-"

I held up my hand and smiled weakly. "You know what? I don't want to hear it." I stepped towards his door, opening it slowly. "Don't call me anymore. In fact, forget I ever existed. Shouldn't be too hard for you."

And I walked out, ignoring how loudly he called my name.

I deserved more.

"Happy Birthday to me," I whispered.

A/N: Yeah, he totally forgot my birthday. And I got mad, and I wrote this. Not the best thing I've written, but it was better than crying over him. Hope you goes like.
Faith