"October fifth, 10 PM, Eastern Standard Time, here I am, Mark Cohen," the camera pans around Mark and Roger's apartment, showing that it is empty and dark, and Mark's voice sounds sad or disappointed maybe? "And where am I? See the empty apartment, alone. Roger is downstairs at Mimi's showing her his new song. Angel and Collins are out... who knows where... And Maureen and Joanne were too busy to visit me. So this is how I'll spend my Friday night, wasting away until I'm nothing. Funny," he gave a dry chuckle, "How all of your friends can forget you on your birthday..."
Mark looked around the room, setting his camera to his side, still rolling, though the only shots it would get was the metal table that Mark was sitting on, "Happy Birthday to me... Thanks guys..." he paused. "Really thanks a lot," he mumbled, bitterly to no one. The only thing that was there to listen was the pipes, and they would never fill the void of his friends.
Mark sighed a shaky sigh, knowing that no one would come to him. "They all... they all just forgot me..." the blonde reflected, his voice heartbroken. He picked his camera back up, "So to continue, this is the empty apartment that I share... My roommate... and might I add best friend... Is too busy to be with me." he rambled, his voice getting sadder, and sadder as he continued.
"Why don't they want me?" Mark asked himself in a whisper, starting to tear up, but wiping his eyes before the tear fell from his face. "No tears, it's fine... What did you expect Mark. Roger forgot last you last year, what made you think this year would be any different?" He was talking to himself, but who cared, he had no one else to talk to.
Mark sighed, letting the camera pan around some more, as if inspecting the dark place. Mark wasn't going to turn on a light just so he could be alone, it didn't matter to him. He liked the darkness so he could pretend to slip into the shadows, nothing was all that bad in the shadows. No one in the shadows forgot about you. No one in the shadows could judge.
Mark looked to the door, he could hear Mimi and Roger, and was trying to block out the pairs cute coupleness, when he himself was all alone. "So to wrap up," he said to the camera, "Here is Mark all alone, happy birthday Mark. Happy, happy birthday." And with that the filmmaker stopped rolling the camera and looked around, humming the song. Happy Birthday.
Mark slid off the table, brushing at his khakis and picking at a stray thread in his sweater, pulling at it, and flicking it off, letting the string fall to the floor. He sighed, watching it fall to the hard floor. "Sorry," he said, actually to the string.
He gazed over at Roger's guitar, with no one to talk to, everything was interesting to Mark, and the blonde wasn't sure why. But he stared at the guitar, it didn't hurt him as badly that Roger had forgotten. For the second year in a row his best friend had forgotten about his birthday. That stung a bit, but Mark figured that he would have to deal with the loneliness, the small twinge of betrayal that he felt in his heat, but he said nothing. And he wouldn't say anything. Not to Roger. Mark never did share his feelings with the rest of his friends, no need to burden them with the inner mind of Mark.