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.