Life Update: A Happier Birthday
I can't remember what was the time I actually stopped feeling excited about my birthday. It must have happened somewhere after turning eighteen, because that was still a time when I was excitedly waiting for the day to arrive. But even then, my birthday has never been that good of a day for me – or happy, for that matter.
birthday.
It's only three weeks after Christmas, we can't give you anything for birthday present anymore.
It's the coldest time of the year, you can't even do anything outside.
It's so dark and gloomy throughout the whole day, all you can do is sit indoors.
It's the worst time of the year to be born.
The Kid still wanted to enjoy the day somehow, though. I used to throw birthday parties until I turned fourteen, and those parties were strictly for me and my Friends. I didn't want to include my family in them, I was never that close with any of my relatives anyway. So I invited all of my Friends to hang out in our tiny two-room apartment me and my mom lived in with one kitty. I had prepared chips and candy for everyone to snack on, I had my favorite music albums playing on my mom's old CD player, My PlayStation 2 was turned on and it had two SingStar microphones connected to it. My room was big, bigger than my previous one, and me and and all my Friends could fit there really well. I was sitting on the floor with some of them, and some were sitting on my small wooden bed that I had slept on since I was three years old. I was having a good time, and I thought that they were too. At least they had smiles on their faces.
But then I realized the reason for their smiles. It was not my birthday. It was me, yes, but in a different way.
My Friends were always way smarter than I was. They were clever, cunning, insightful, observant. They were able to see things I wasn't. And they were good at taking advantage of that.
They said terrible things to me. They said terrible things to my mom. I wasn't able to protect my mom from them, my Friends that I had wanted to invite over. It was my fault. I should have been more aware.
When they finally left, one of my Friends purposefully left the door of our apartment open. My black kitty then ran down the stairs, and I was frantically trying to get to the front door before her. Catching my breath, I successfully blocked the way and lifted my kitty in my arms.
My cheeks were wet with tears.
"She could have been ran over by a car!" my mom screamed at me.
"I'm sorry."
I was more careful with the selection of my Friends the next year. But even that was not enough to grant me a happier birthday. I hope I will have one sometime.
Regretting the day I was born,
ichigonya
