The Reasons I Hate My Birthday
It's not because I'm older
I'm ok with older. I'm ok with wrinkles, with having to grow up
with the sudden realisation that I"m not a kid anymore
even though I still feel like I'm 16.
Although to be fair, when I was 16, I felt like I was 8.
It's not the big fuss.
I am totally down with cake. Cake is amazing.
Especially Red Velvet cake with cream cheese frosting.
I love presents. I like wrapping paper.
Cards are awesome, and birthday punches are tolerable.
Birthday Hugs and Kisses are the clear winners of the day.
It's not the way it's once a year. How suddenly it sneaks up on you
even though all year I have been telling people I am a year older than I am.
"35!" I say. "No wait. 34! 34!"
It's not the part where I try to figure out what I've achieved this year
Have I done everything someone my age has supposed to have done?
Definitely not! Do I care? Probably not!
It's not belated wishes, or people who forget the day, or people who are way too enthusiastic and won't stop making a big deal....
It's you, Love.
It's a day where I have to remember that you aren't here.
Because you will never call me and sing "Happy Birthday Mr President" in your best Marilyn Munroe voice.
You will never send me a bouquet of pink flowers, knowing how much I hate pink, but love flowers.
You will never hold my hand and drag me around the shops or eat thai food with me.
You will never try to outdo me with presents or wrapping or silly phone calls.
There will be no offkey offtime singing while I laugh tea out my nose.
Instead, I will wake up and remember that you will not call.
That I will never see you again.
That the only hand holding we will do will be ghostly and unkind
to my broken belated heart.
Before you, I only disliked my birthday. Now I hate it.
Without you, mostly I hate everything
I hate my birthday more than I hate your birthday.
Your birthday is easy! On your birthday, I get to do all the things you liked,
eat nachos, watch lord of the rings, tell people that I love them.
On my birthday, I have to listen to people tell me that they love me
and know it will never be the way you loved me.
Most days, I don't have to remember the lack of you.
Most days, it's not my birthday.