And here we go again.

I'm twenty.

I turned twenty years old on January twenty-second at five AM. It's weird, I don't feel older or care too much at all.

From here on out all I have to look forward to is physical and mental disabilities and getting shitfaced drunk at the turn of every new year. Overall it was an ok birthday, although I have more unknown drunken injuries again. My Playstation got fucked somehow, someone poured water on it and the books surrounding it or something. I'm not really sure how it happened.

I got a sweater and some vitamins/ protein powder for my birthday this year. I'm not trying to pull a sympathy card, I'm stating facts. It's as if birthdays don't mean anything but added responsibilities and the need to act like you know what you're doing.

With hearts so heavy we could barely stand up..