No one wants to be that girl who locks herself in the bathroom on her birthday like she’s on the brink of a nervous breakdown, but here I am, leaning my elbows on the toilet bowl, inhaling God knows how many private-part diseases, all in the hope of freeing myself of this birthday cake while freeing myself of my best friend’s wrath.
Warm, melted, gooey cheese gloops out of the toasted bread like a scene from Ghostbusters. Blonde, stringy, salty creaminess. Rahhhhhh. I feel my heart beat like I’m in a romantic film and me and the cheese are the main stars.