I hate my birthday but…
she’s still here and wants to celebrate it like she used to
l used to be a child who adored her birthday with the fervor of a sun-struck daydreamer. Every year, I wished my birthdays could come every day, so I could bask in the glow of happiness and gratitude, and receive gifts from those who made me feel cherished. Blowing out the candles on my cake was a moment of pure magic, a ritual that made me feel like the center of a dazzling universe.
But how did I end up hating my own birthday?
I once believed that happiness on your birthday was a given, but as I grow older, that joy feels increasingly hard to find and feel. Instead of feeling the warmth of happiness, I am often met with a chill of sadness, emptiness, and disappointment. The anticipation that once sparked excitement has left, leaving me indifferent and unhappy. It’s as though it’s become a star that shines brilliantly in the distance, visible but unreachable.
Each year, when my birthday rolls around, it feels as ordinary as any other day. The vibrant celebrations of the past have faded, replaced by the quiet resignation that comes with aging. The joy of receiving gifts and indulging in favorite foods has given way to a sense of disillusionment. What once filled me with happiness now only leaves an empty void that no amount of celebration seems to fill.
Birthdays feel like they have become as mundane as the changing of seasons, a mere tick on the calendar rather than a day of celebration. What once was a beacon of joy now seems like a distant star-bright and alluring, but forever out of reach. I find myself wondering how the delight of blowing out candles became a chore, a mere echo of a once-beloved ritual.
Truth be told, it’s been ages since I’ve truly enjoyed my own birthday. If my memory serves me right, the last time I felt genuine joy on my special day was when I was eight years old. Now, birthdays feel like another day of existence, a mere marker of time passing.
They said “You can’t hate something you didn’t once love.”
It’s true because the day I now despise the most was once the day I love the most.
Yes, I do hate my birthdays because it’s not the same as it was, but if you ask me on a deeper level, I would say I hate it for so many reasons. Yet, behind it all, there’s a part of me — the child I once was — that still longs for the excitement and joy of celebrating. I miss the thrill of surprises, the excitement of birthday greetings precisely at midnight, the joy of unwrapping gifts, and the warmth of heartfelt messages that used to make birthdays feel truly magical.
So even if I hate my birthday, that little part of me is still here, hoping to recapture some of that childhood wonder. To experience a birthday where genuine happiness flourishes, free from the negative aspects that once made me dread this day. I want to be surrounded by people who truly care, to engage in activities that bring joy, and to feel a sense of peace and contentment that I once had before.
A/N: Today is my birthday, and it feels like a normal day. However, I’m trying to focus on the brighter side, hoping to recapture some of the genuine happiness I felt on my birthdays as a child. I’m reflecting on the joy and excitement of those simpler times, and even though it may not be the same now, I’m trying to find small moments of delight and appreciation to make today special in its own way. — oceanburned 𓇼
