Oh, Boy…


By far, the worst birthday ever. I don’t even want to explain. My journal got to hear that rant. I just really always thought that birthdays were the get out of jail free card to bad days. I guess I’ve been proven wrong. Couldn’t have been much worse.
At least the little self portrait sketch turned out alright…and listening to some Beatles makes everything better…I had originally intended to fill this page with how I’d changed in the past year, but instead vented on every irritating aspect of the day. Here are the pages before the scribbled ranting:




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