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    • IMPACT Team
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  • Issues
    • 2022: Ergo >
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    • 2021: Reformation >
      • Writing
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      • Performance
    • 2020: The Revival
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happy birthday

by Mira Lenart
it’s not that i don’t care enough to check my work

trust me, the effort was there. phone calls made, money spent, designs found, publix employees harassed. the failure was not through a lack of effort. grocery shopping from nineteen hours away is not easy.

it was a cute cake. pink and purple, because you like them and they aren’t college colors. flowers, leaves, as many words as the site would let me add. chocolate, fudge, strawberries, vanilla ice cream and Oreos. fun fact of the day: Instacart doesn’t let you deliver anything less than ten dollars, which was a problem, because i paid for the cake in advance.

and maybe maybe the secret got out a little too early, thanks to your scheming little sister’s big mouth.
and maybe the vivid picture i have in my head of your father laughing when i told you what happened makes me afraid to visit ever again

and that’s probably my anxiety talking, but that doesn’t make it any less loud
i remember him tossing volleyballs over a net for us to pass back and when i dove and missed he laughed. i know that laugh.


and maybe the cake didn’t actually mean happy birthday or merry christmas or cornell is a bunch of jerks

maybe it meant that i loved you when you were a badass blonde outside hitter with a little bit of a victim complex, and i love you now that you’re a slightly condescending redhead straight-A artist
    and i know none of the above applies to me
        except maybe the victim complex
    and i know we’ve been different people since sixth grade, but i made you a mug cake when you found out your grandfather died, and you refuse to let me wallow in my own depression through isolation, and we both freaked out when we heard where that one kid from our elementary school ended up in college

and when i found out that the smartest stem kid from our elementary school was at a tiny liberal arts college in Oregon i called you to freak out over it

but i guess what i’m saying
    through the fake cursive on purple buttercream of a quarter sheet cake
is that i hope you loved me then too, and i hope somehow, maybe, you see something in me to love now
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