I feel like birthdays are just a reason to make ourselves look good. To be fake with people, you know? It's like, we celebrate holidays because we are incapable of picking up the phone or sending a letter, or text, throughout the rest of the year to tell people, just tell them, how much we care. Or simply say, 'I was thinking of you'. And we're programmed to do this, all of us. Because there isn't enough time, or we have too much going on. Or whatever. And perhaps it gets too overwhelming to go through the list of people and say the 'I love you's' or the 'thinking of you'. But hey, there's always Facebook. A wonderful calendar reminder, so that we can take 30 seconds to type up a simple, "Happy Birthday, love you!" "Wishing you the best on your special day!" or some appropriate statement like that. And we never say, I hope you're happy. This very statement usually carries undertones of sarcasm when used by people (and why the hell is that?). When did a simple statement, that should mean so much kindness, and real compassion for another person become some snarling sarcasm? When did statements and words get so complicated that we rarely ever say what we actually mean? Why does everything have to be in context?
And we all do it. We're practically trained to from childhood. To lie to people, white lies, to make everything easier. For ourselves mostly, though we will tell ourselves that it's for the sake of others.
Sorry, tangent.
I think birthday's are a selfish joke. I think I really mean that. I'm not saying they always are, sometimes people really need that reassurance that they're loved. Sometimes it's just fun to hang out with people, eat food, and drink and be merry. I get it, really. growing up in a household that always celebrated birthdays, and all the holidays; decorations, cake, presents, people, food, all of it. And everyone was special. If my mother could, she always threw every child - us and our friends included - a birthday party. She was the best at it. Especially when many of those children had useless parents, or abusive, or just tool bag parents who never listened. She would be there, to feed and nurture and make them feel special, and not alone. And sometimes, that is just what we need.
But for me, birthdays always feel like the time when I really see just how lack luster my social life is. People I never talk to in person, people I haven't spoken to in years, post all over my social media page, with wishes of 'happy birthday!' I may get full sentences, if they're really significant in my life, or perhaps were significant. It seems to vary as I get older. Yet all year long, I rarely receive any comments or messages or anything from these people (beyond a select few, for those who may read this someday, you know who you are, and I appreciate you). So, why do we do it?
I'm guilty of it too. Even old high school friends or acquaintances; when the notification pops up, I'm all but first to post the famous tagline of the day. Like it gives some self-gratification, like it makes me a caring person. I don't know. It's so, so cheap and easy, isn't it? Then we wait for another year to make the 'effort' to show our feathers of 'Look at me, I give a shit'. But do we really? If we care about people, don't we reach out to them? Don't we call them or fucking text once in a while? In this day, where there are so many forms of communication, why is it so hard for people to drop a line sometimes? Or why do we even bother, then? Why not just focus on the people around us, everyday. Why bother just once or twice a year? If a relationship isn't worth more of your time, is it worth it at all?
Perhaps, I'm a scrooge for feeling any of this, for writing it 'out loud' for all to see. Or maybe it's a mild sense of depression because I am 29, unemployed, living at my parents house in the 7th circle of hell. Which doesn't feel like that much to celebrate, honestly. But hey, I'm alive, right? I have food and shelter and clothes that aren't too terribly old. I have a wonderful, supportive partner who will read this and probably hug me and tell me everything's gonna work out. And maybe, just maybe... those things are the real gift on a birthday. The rest, is just filler.
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