The Killing Kind

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Diary of a Mixed-up Girl blog entry, dated March 27

Today is my birthday. I haven’t told Roxie or the guy about it and I don’t think I will. There’s no real point to marking the day any other way than writing about it here. It’s just such a strange thing to think about. No cake or candles to blow out for me this year. And I don’t think I’ll be alive when this day rolls around again. Not trying to be melodramatic. I really feel like I can feel the end coming. What’s really sort of fucked-up is how okay I am with it. I think about it and it doesn’t bother me at all. The not-caring thing disturbs me more than the idea of dying, but even that’s just whatever. I fucked the guy a little while ago. Straight up asked Roxie if I could. Half expected her to kick my ass. But she was okay with it. I guess it makes sense. She’s so fucking cool. I could live a thousand years and never be half as cool as Roxie. I’d say I want to be just like her when I grow up, but I’m never gonna grow up, so that shit ain’t happening. LOL.

So anyway, I guess that little backseat tumble with the guy was Roxie’s b-day present to me. Only she doesn’t know that’s what it was. It was okay, I guess. Shit. People poking around outside. Gotta go. Later. Maybe.

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