I'm sitting at one end of the dark room, the opposite side of where it's lit. It's my party, and I should be having fun, but all I'm seeing is everyone getting so wasted that they can't tell what's the floor and what's the couch. And you, who just a half hour ago noticed me sitting back and came to ask why, you're now shooting down shots like the rest of them and can't remember why you're even here.
That this is my birthday. And I'm somehow supposed to be having it all.