Yes Maria, it’s my birthday day. Happy birth date to me I suppose.
A day I’ve long dreaded that has fast approached. Too fast yet again. Excuse the nonsensical rambles in this letter as I’ll most likely find myself distracted whilst I continually reach for a trusty, nearby brown paper bag in which you’ll most likely find me hyperventilating into.
Well how does it feel? How does it feel to be another year older? Another year gone; filled with regret? Well no different to yesterdays anxieties although the stress levels have somewhat subsided. Slightly. Probably that small inner child still trying to hold fast to that wee bit of thread to the happiness balloon attached to my birthday. It’s funny, yesterdays financial urgency has been overshadowed by the crunch of just how many people will remember today is my birth date and how many people will kindly write their generic niceties on my Facebook wall. I’m quite nervous at that one since Facebook suddenly thought it wise to grandly announce just how many people post greetings about said day smack bang on your feed and everyone else at that.
So far I’ve had four and it’s almost ten in the morning.
Which means I am awaiting on that inner feeling of dejection from this public humiliation at any moment.
Honestly sometimes I really detest social media and this new age of immediate gratification and knowledge of people’s business. Of being connected to people who in bygone times you’d have lost touch with period and it made no difference. Everything was fairly discreet.
C’est la vie.
I’m also quite panicked over what to do with myself. About two weeks ago my gorgeous friend Kristy announced that we had to do something for my birth date, regardless of my uneasy qualms and contradictions. It was a nice surprise to have someone care about this once special day. She even told me she’d make me a cake. But I had to dissent to her grandiose offer since I told her that I would have zero dollars to my name by that weekend. But she insisted we go out at least for a charming dinner, even declaring that they’d pay for me since it was my birthday after all. It was the sweetest gesture but still in my heart of hearts I did not want to do that. I don’t (still) want to be that friend that everyone has to pay for when we go out, regardless of if it’s my birthday. I really wanted to pay my own way for a change. That inner feeling of independence is really rattling against the prison bars, making a commotion with her bid for freedom.
But regardless, bless her heart. That is probably the first or second time in my life were someone has made a point to celebrate this day of mine. Really (tried) to go out of their way to make me smile. And as much as I went to drop everything, let my hair hang down and get shit face wasted in reality it’s just not going to be a possibility. As of today I actually have $15 in my account. So obviously there will be no shindig for myself this weekend. Not to forget that I haven’t exactly heard from her since then so…
Happy birthday to me,
P.S. Ok, make that 7 well wishes now.