Birthday angst...

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Well, it may only be one in the morning, but today is in fact my 22nd year in this world. And I can already feel the pressure breathing down my neck. If you can't tell, I hate my birthday. The real reason being is because it feels false. That's about all I can say to describe how I'm feeling. And I'm not looking for congrats, or pity, or pats on the shoulder, or anything. Right now I just need to get this off my chest. My family, my mom mostly, has been pushing me to celebrate this "joyous" occasion. Recently she has explained her feelings about birthing me and motherhood, etc. And it's slowly causing me to feel guilty. And I don't like that feeling. I wish I could have been a better child for her. I know I'm not what she has expected from me. My family doesn't even celebrate their own birthdays, but admire mine because I'm the only child. And I don't think they quite understand or know about the trauma and the war that's going on inside me. Living has been a burden for me ever since I took my first breath. My reason is complicated. I didn't ask to be born. I need a time machine... Being 22 is an age where you should have accomplished things already in your life. And I have nothing to show except for a few emotional and physical scars. And maybe that's why I'm so angry at myself. I can't even be around my friends anymore. It's been years since I talked to some of them. I don't have the patience to hear about their "amazing" lives as I sit in the dark. My friends have jobs, their going to college, and are in relationships. I don't participate in any of that because I don't know how to. Plain and simple. I guess I don't know how to live. I've never been taught. Instead I work on several projects on the computer all day hoping to catch a break into the real world. Then when I'm not working on those I sit in my room and listen to music until I fall asleep. And then another day arises and repeats itself. What I'm getting at here is that I'm looking for some light to come into my life. I've only known darkness. I often say that I am positive when it comes to others and negative about anything pertaining to me. And that's probably my proudest accomplishments. The only person I judge is myself. And I'm sick of what I see in the mirror. I've been in this house since I graduated high school and I've rarely stepped outside. What happens when I do take my first step?