When I bring the first forkful of cake to my lips, I taste victory. The strawberry flavor that spreads across my tastebuds reminds me to the fact that I’ve army crawled another year on this Earth. All the long, stretched days in my cramped, barren home led up to this. In spite of everything and everyone, it was worth it.

All my windows are open, and I can feel the eyes of every passerby looking in. They’re the most pitiful, stupid looking people I’ve seen. Rain drenches them, and I keep eating.

The thirty candles I clumped together are now in the garbage, and for once the thing isn’t bursting open. For once the sink isn’t overflowing with dishes. For once I’m not so tired. I chow down the last piece of victory and finish it off with a glass of wine. My body collapses on the couch afterwards.

Once the rain lets up, an old man slowly walks by the front of my house. He sees me lounging, and steps into my front yard to get a closer look at what he views as a mess. Concern and sympathy flash in his cloudy eyes. I immediately give him the finger, and he runs off like a scared animal.

What a moron he is. What morons they all are.