Melancholic Day

Today is my birthday. The last five years, possibly more, have had melancholic birthdays. Today marks the first of my twenty-first year and I've nothing but "Happy Birthday" posted all over my comments here, facebook, and myspace from people I know. Though I may appreciate the thought, I can't help but feel the irony of them wishing me a great birthday and me knowing that today will be no different than any other day. My birthday isn't a day where I enjoy birthday cakes with family. I don't receive gifts from loved ones. Last year, I stayed in bed. The year before, I worked a double shift. The year before that, I was nearly murdered. The year before that, I was in a correction home. The year before that, I stayed home as well. I haven't received gifts personally for me outside of Christmas and I get extremely jealous of people who have birthday bashes and cake. I have to admit that I've gotten used to it at this point... however it doesn't fail to make me still want that celebration. Isn't your birthday, after all, a day to celebrate your existence?
I couldn't help but want to paint. My doll was the model in this picture because she often just sits there untouched. Her birthday also recently passed without a second glance. She sits next to my bed and she's just there. I go to bed, I reach to turn my lamp off and there she is staring forward at nothing. I wake up and reach for my glasses and there she is staring forward at nothing. The picture I have painted shows her as I see her each day... unchanged, unmoving, ordinary. For her, every day is just a melancholic day... and today is a melancholic day for me as well.

Yes, this is a very personal piece. The lack of picture quality and technique execution is not at all what I care about with this. And I have indeed ranted. But just today, I want to rant. Just for this one day to the world.

And honestly, I feel as though I'd rather never hear "Happy Birthday" from people.