So in two hours, I will turn 21 in a country where the legal drinking age is 20. I will make this landmark birthday with no family and few friends. Mom is in Texas, Dad is in Louisville, and the vast majority of my friends are in Danville. As far as I can tell, Daniela and Henna don't drink, and neither does Shikin. Or if they do, I'm unaware. As far as the others go, the consensus seems to be that I am still a bit of a black sheep. While I do have friends amongst the international students, most just sort of ignore me. Or at least, the Americans have made it clear that I'm mostly unwanted in terms of social interaction.

I would like to go back to the restaurant we went to our first weekend here. I would like to have nomihodai and laugh with everyone while we drink, and then stumble down to karaoke where I will not sing, but I will enjoy hearing the others around me have fun. I will get way too tired and bitch about the bike ride home. It will be one of the best nights ever.

Except that will not happen, because today is Wednesday night, and tomorrow is Thursday. My birthday falls during the week. This weekend is one of the busiest to date, so once again, it will not happen.

I miss my birthdays were Maggie and I would go out for a nice dinner followed by a movie. I miss birthdays surrounded by laughing people. I miss birthdays where I wasn't ashamed to say, "It's my birthday, let's go out."

Whenever I say that, I feel like a burden. Last year, Mom sent me money to buy everyone at college cake. I was afraid to do it. I was afraid to give my close friends cake and say, "It's my birthday." I was afraid I would look like an attention grubbing whore.

Of course that fear is completely unfounded. They loved the cake, and we had a blast. But still, the fear was there, and its prevalent more than ever this year; the year I should be spending shit-faced with Maggie in downtown Lexington surrounded by loved ones.






I'm terribly lonely.