I gratuitously put myself in my own comic on April 3 for my nineteenth birthday, as you do. Apparently I’m Alex’s roommate! And there’s some sort of passive-aggressive plea for romantic companionship.
True story: My awesome and thoughtful mom sent me a birthday cake on my birthday. Like, I went down to the lobby to pick up my mail and there was a damn birthday cake waiting for me behind the desk. She’d probably ordered it over the phone from back home. And my mom had asked them to, from what I gathered, take whatever Roomies! strip had printed in the newspaper and place it on top of the cake. And of course it was this one.
Meaning I ate birthday cake alone in the dark in my room that night. A birthday cake with an image of myself on it talking about being so, so alone.
This was the year I probably should have been on antidepressants.
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