Sad: Listening to classic Edith Piaf alone in your apartment kitchen.
Depressing: Listening to classic Edith Piaf alone in your apartment kitchen on your 30th birthday.
Pathetic: Then blowing out a candle in a stale Hostess cupcake, and breaking down in tears.
No, I am not depressed or alone, my birthday is in November, but I like Edith's work even though I recognize her nostalgic weepiness. In fact, this seemed so over-the-top depressing, I couldn't help but share in the dark humor of it.