birthday blues

Today I had an interview for a summer job. Bright and early at 9:30 am on zoom meetings. At least I was in the convenience and comfort of my own room, leisurely sitting at my desk, for about 50 minutes in the waiting room, with my anxiety eating away at me accompanied by my fan's steady hum at setting 3.

A perfect way to start this special day. Stressed, overwhelmed and overheated.

Twenty minutes later and I'm still in the waiting room, time adding up to my total almost mockingly.

I’m gonna let you in on yesterday’s journal entry while I wait:

tomorrow's my birthday
I'm turning 24
I've always had a weird relationship with this specific date of the year
I'm always jealous of the people that get excited about it
they plan weeks before
they call it birthday week
birthday month even
they celebrate it every way possible
the cakes that say"1 year closer to being a milf"
the friends that gather to surprise you
at your doorstep
the balloons and the confetti

I've always been in the most sentimental side of things
not the "1 year closer to death"
just the quiet feeling that things are bound to end
I have to admit there's an existential undercoat to this day
it makes me think of how small I am in the grand scheme of things
in this world
and not just physically

the truth is
I feel so lonely every time my birthday comes around
it's like there's this invisible force
compelling me to think about
all things lost
all things broken
all things gone

"another birthday without my grandma"
"another birthday without something special in my life, you'd think it would have happened already by now..."
"another birthday that finds me unchanged"

sometimes I feel like I'm on of those constants found in math equations?
the stoic, steady, unshakable little letters
I feel like the weakest constant there could ever be

it's pretty much mandatory process
to cry
a day before my birthday
I call it tradition at this point

a day to let everything out
before putting on a happy face for the entire next one
and then I feel even worse
thinking of how ungrateful I must sound
because I am very grateful, more than words could ever describe
of everything in my life right now
it still doesn't quite feel like enough
but I'm grateful for everything and anything, big or small

so why do I feel so sad?
why do I have to balance between this type of existential dread and mental slope at the same time?

I'm no juggler, so it's only normal I can't keep up and feelings spill over

It's on this specific day that I just can't appreciate the good things
because my mind only rushes to locate what's missing

and then there's this pressure of having this big, showstopping day, that you go out, go a lil crazy, get a lil wild, make a few bad choices, blame them on the booze and how birthdays are supposed to be reminded to you, but not remembered by you

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It’s a very inconvenient time of the year. Ever since junior high I couldn’t really celebrate it on the actual day. If exams hadn’t already started, they were very intimately waiting around the corner.

First year of high school, I had my german language certificate exams right on my birthday. I remember going in for the speaking part, giving my ID to the examiner. She wished me a happy birthday with the most melancholic look in her eyes.

In the last year of high school, I was relieved to find out that the university entrance exams wouldn’t be on my birthday. They were on the day before and the day after. Still, I had to stay home, revise and hope for the best outcome and grades. Not only did I not have the time to celebrate, I didn’t even have the time to think about it.

My mom always tried her best to get me to blow the candles. It was always rushed, never really indulging in birthday wishes or tasting the buttercream. But she was always there supporting me through every step, even when not celebrating my birthday probably bothered her more than it did me. Maybe she even feels guilty about it, joking about holding on to her baby bump for a little longer, but the truth is I was already overdue for about a week. So it really is my fault for thoroughly enjoying the womb.

Today isn’t even the first time I have a job interview on my birthday. The first time was for my first ever seasonal job. They informed me right after the interview that if it also worked for me, they wanted me to go for a test shift. I agreed, not thinking too much about it. Later, I returned to the caravan I would live in for the next three summer months. My dad was there waiting for me. He wasn’t able to get a cake, but he improvised and put 19 candles on a melon sliced in half.

it was sweeter than cake, June 11th 2020

The first ever birthday party thrown for me was in 2023.

Well, it wasn't exactly the first one ever, it was the third one. The first one ever was for my first ever birthday. My dad showed me the video of the whole 2002 party. It was one of those low resolution, high saturation type of VHS videos. Both my parents had that youthful look and the unexplainable happiness that comes with having a baby. I remember the people around I couldn't quite name, aunts and uncles, cousins, my grandma, and a little me walking around with two pigtails of barely-there hair holding onto the top of my little head. It felt serene. It felt nothing like it does now.

The second one was in middle school. Second grade. I was the new kid, in this picturesque suburb where people hid themselves behind white picket fences and private parking spots. A very family-oriented place that turned cruel once the single parent and her child showed up. We had a rough start, it smoothed over as time went by, and now I only pass by that place to go see my mother, who now lives in a small neighboring town. I haven’t been to the house I grew up in since 2021. The same house my second birthday party took place, in a motherly attempt and heartfelt effort to help her little girl feel less alone. It was my mother’s tender hope to see her baby smile, instead of seeing the tear-stained face I tried to hide every day coming back from school. Kids can be cruel.

My best friend (the same one who also taught me how to parallel park) insisted on the party, since we were already on a semester abroad that was slowly but surely coming to an end. I very much did not want one. I was not used to celebrating by myself, let alone having a whole bunch of people celebrating with me.

But he wouldn't really take no for an answer on this one.

I had a great time, a memorable time, but it still felt and feels weird. A few days before, we were hanging out in one of our usual spots in the city. We were sat down on the floor, legs hanging over the canal under the skyscraper jungle unfurling around us. That afternoon I let him in on my existential thoughts around this particular day. I distinctly remember his questioning look. It was one of the many times I felt him wondering why I overthink and overanalyze even the simplest of joys of this mundane human experience.

The day is slowly coming to an end. Less than an hour till midnight. I blew my candles for the day, I made the wish and tasted the sweet treat. Strangely enough, it all traces back to the person that hosted that unwanted party, two years ago.

Funny how certain moments have a way of looping back, uninvited. Tonight felt familiar. Not in the way of repetition, but in the way a smell or a song pulls you sideways in time.

You know that quiet stalling when someone’s about to leave? The way you linger by the doorway, laughter and half-finished words echoing down the hall? He said something along the lines of “here’s to a hundred years more” and I replied, "Careful what you wish for, joke’s gonna be on you." He grinned and said, "Not if I die first," and we both laughed, like people who understand too much do.

And so today was full of time passed, of birthdays blurred together, of how painful memories seem to linger longer than the happy ones. That’s the modern way, the contemporary rhythm, grief hidden in punchlines and affection threaded through sarcasm. We stood there a moment longer, as if time might pause out of courtesy.

But it didn’t. It never does.

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