As I write this, it’s my birthday and I must say, birthdays are fucking stupid.
Once a year, the people I love drop everything to give me things or attention, to remember me for all that I am, just like everyone else. Now, am I saying I don’t want attention and pretty things? Of course not! But does that mean I deserve it? I think we all know the answer to that.
You see, I like attention. Contrary to popular belief I like words of affirmation I like people doing things for me and going above and beyond to show they care. Maybe I pretend I don’t at times, maybe I say don’t worry about it when people ask what I want. And honestly I wouldn’t be upset if they didn’t go out of their way just for me. But I think a lot of it is that I’m not good at expressing what’s on the inside so if I pretend I don’t want anything then when I don’t make a big fuss over their fuss maybe they won’t think I don’t like what they’ve done. Ok, the logic is flawed, and already I’m getting away from the point, but the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma. (gold star if you get it)
The celebration of a person for nothing other than existing is pointless. Ok, you’ve made it this far and that’s an achievement but is it? Did I achieve something by living off of my parents and writing shitty ‘uneducated’ garbage online so that maybe some stranger will pay attention to me? I mean, that’s what this is all about isn’t it? What’s so important about me when I leave my friends for something I made up in my head? What’s so important about living in a fantasy world not only created by me, for me, but that has become so real to me that its affecting my real life relationships and how I see some of the people closest to me? Am I to participate in celebrating the existence that I spend all of my time escaping from either in my writing or online in video games? Or is it simply so I’m forced back into what I really am? So that for one day a year, if even that little, I exist where I should? Is it a time of healing? Or am I over thinking this?
What is in a birthday? I’d rather celebrate my achievements. My stepmom made a fuss after learning id finished the rough draft of my first book. It also happened to line up with the ‘six-month-aversery’ of me being back here. I didn’t admit it at the time, after all, the rough draft being finished only served to show how much work I still had ahead, but that held far more meaning to me than any birthday ever has. In fairness, there was one birthday that my sister spent a long time planning that ended up being a lot of fun and the meaning in that was almost birthday irrelevant. The meaning comes from how far they were willing to go for me, but that still brings me back to the, ‘why?’
Maybe someone out there deserves to be celebrated for surviving x amount of years, but not me, not here.