Happy Birthday To Me

I've never really liked my birthdays. They felt like entire days commemorating things that I felt I didn't have. Like a lot of friends, or a lot of family, or a lot of reason to celebrate myself.

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It's taken me a while, but I think I get it now. It's okay to be me. In fact I like being me. Four words I'd never thought I'd think, let alone write, let alone believe. I think I'm an interesting person. I think I'm kind and compassionate. And I care about others. And... stay with me... I think sometimes I'm funny.

What's crazy is that I've always been these things. It's not as if I turned 21, and when the clock struck 12, my personality just appeared. It was a gradual, invisible, organic process. I've always been these things.

When I was younger, I hated celebrating myself. If you asked me to name one thing I liked about myself, maybe I would've told you... yeah I don't really know what I would've told you. The point is, the clock struck midnight on yet another birthday, and I'm waiting for my Cinderella dress. I'm waiting for the magic moment, the transformation, the some feeling of being 21. But I don't feel it.

The older I get, the more these phenomenon seems permanent. "It feels like birthdays are just annual reminders of our mortality," a friend said on my birthday. "Why do birthdays even exist?" Why celebrate the day you were born? Is that just a day that we picked because it's universally human? Is it because we assume existence is intrinsically good? Or is it some kind of business scheme like Valentine's day to sell balloons and confetti to us sheep?

Maybe this is the normal course of events. Friends I thought would message, didn't. Family I thought wouldn't care, did. Life changed a little at a time, like a glacier turning to sea, or a river carving out a mountain. Maybe it's normal to not feel that different on your birthday. Who knows.

Maybe there doesn't need to be a point to birthdays. Why so salty, Amulya? People are just trying to do nice things for you. Stop being annoying and just accept the overblown excitement. Jeez.

I cry almost ever birthday. For good or bad. The weight of everything I own in this life, my history, my childhood, my promises, my heartaches, my life, washes over me every birthday. And those memories are heavy. 21 years of memories weigh more than my daily disposition can handle.

But that's okay.

It's almost 1 in the morning, now. My mom popped a bottle of non-alcoholic apple cider for my 21st. Last year I thought I'd be in Berlin with my closest friends in a bar or something this moment. But I'm not. But honestly, I think that's okay too.

I enjoyed my birthday. There was a little get together. We joked and laughed and spent time together since a long time. I let down my guard and let the comfort of home wash over me again. Familiar faces making familiar expressions, I think I can confidently say that it was one of the good birthdays. I'm glad I'm here, and I'm glad I'm awake to see all the beauty around me that's always been here.

I need to stop searching for meaning in places where there is none. Your birthday is just the day you were born. It's just like any other day, except the universe gives you a chance to reflect on your life. On who you've become and where you've been. It's a moment to pause and snuggle deeper into your own skin, because you own this body. This is yours. You own this life. This. Is. Yours. All this good and all this bad? It's yours.

That's not really a new revelation, but when time stretches back to an infinite regress, few thoughts truly are. I guess it's time for me to stop waiting for my fairy god mother to appear and start being grateful for this life I have. It's not half bad, really. Who said you can't have apple cider for a 21st birthday?

And so the clock struck midnight. The wind settled. Just for a moment, the night was still. The Christmas lights twinkle outside my window. Nothing had changed. But this time, this moment is mine.

Maybe it's okay to want to feel special on your birthday. Maybe it's not worth the trouble. Either way, as long as we don't feel alone, it's a good day in my book.

It was a good day. Also a birthday.

A good day nevertheless.