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An Act of Kindness

Today I came home from having dinner with my parents and I picked up my mail. I hadn't checked it in a while, so there was a buildup of flyers, bills, and solicitations. Nothing too interesting. As I came to the bottom of the stack I saw a hand written envelope.

It wasn't written to me, though. It was addressed to the former resident.

I flipped it in my hands for a half a second and decided to open it. I thought to myself that it was my duty to check it. Maybe it was important. Really, I'm just too curious for my own good.

I Hate Birthdays

Continuing with the theme of weird things about me that could possibly point to some psychological conditions - I hate birthdays. Rest assured that it's not my birthday. I wanted to write this on my birthday, but instead I waited some amount of time so that no one would know when it is.

Yeah, that's right. I don't tell people when my birthday is. My family knows, since they were intimately involved in the event we're supposed to celebrate, but very few of my friends know. Kristen bribed me by making me a really cool clay rock for my fish tank, so I told her. The only two friends who called were Nicole and Nick, both of which I would have thought would never call. I've seen Nicole once in the past two years, and Nick has been in Pennsylvania for quite some time.

I don't know exactly what it is about birthdays. I just don't like people making a big deal out of it. I hate getting birthday presents (along with Christmas presents), and I hate it when people wish me a happy birthday. All these family members and Nick and Nicole called, and I ignored all of their calls. I didn't call them back either.