My Birthday

Birthdays are traditionally celebrated. Friends and family are invited to a party, or they throw a surprise party for the birthday boy or girl. Birthdays are traditionally days that people look forward to and are excited about.

My birthday has always been a bad day. For as long as I can remember.

My birthday is on August 25th. My sister's birthday is on the 24th. And my brother's the 26th.

I am the oldest, and my birthday is in the middle.

You would think that it would be easy to remember seeing as it is smacked right between my sister's and brother's, but my own mother has forgotten my birthday before. She will not admit it, but it did happen.

My birthday is always forgotten. You would think I would be use to having friends who don't remember my birthday but expect me to remember theirs. I'm not.

Anyone that I have ever had a relationship with has not been able to remember my birthday.

You would think the sting of a forgotten birthday would lessen.

It doesn't.

It only seems to get worse as time passes. As more people forget. As more milestone birthdays are forgotten and/or turn out to be horrible days.

I am turning 18 on Saturday. I have managed to get myself hyped up for this day despite all of this. I have made plans in my head that won't happen.

I was looking forward to this until I was given a reminder that no one ever remembers my birthday.

I am kind of over birthdays. Just a little.

What are they but a way to remind you that you are getting older. That you don't have friends. That people don't care enough about you to celebrate such a day with you.

So happy almost 'you-are-getting-older-and-you-have-no-one-around-you-that-cares-a-whole-hell-of-a-lot-about-you-to-remember-this-notoriously-bad-day-and-try-to-make-it-better'-day to me.