It's my birthday and, I'm sleepy.

Last night we remixed our summer evenings with the indoors, with air conditioning and alcohol and questions I already knew the answer to. That's the thing when you've been friends as long as I have you already know how to do it. Nothing we say is an isolated incident just a segment of a continuous narrative we get when we check in. When you learned how to kiss at age fifteen, the first party you ever went, how old you were when your mother died.

I already know a million things about you. I already know that you don't like coconut, and you know that when I smell like smoke its cause I've been driving my mother's car.

I was just crying because I haven't cried in three months and its about time. Because you're in love and its my birthday and that's what happens when its your birthday, you get overwhelmed and tired in the middle of the party and you just sit in the corner without talking to anyone and eat your cake and hope someone will come over and tell you that its your birthday and they love you, don't worry.