... and I'll cry if I want to.
But PLAN it(?)... I will never do. (Well, maybe when I turn 50 or something... gah!)
My stomach is always a little unsettled around this time, the week leading to my birthday. It's always full of uncertainty as I try to cope with another year piled on to the rest and this anxiousness I can't seem to shake. I feel a lot like Molly Ringwald's character, Sam(?) in Sixteen Candles: I wake up, stare at myself in the mirror in hopes that some dramatic change has occurred (no, wrinkles and gray hairs are not welcomed at this point), am on the edge of my seat waiting to see who's remembered and am filled with a bit of disappointment when the people in my life forget.
Birthdays are special. They should be spent with those you love and care for, those souls who love and care for you. They should be spent with the people in your life.
For the past couple of years, I've ridden on the coattails of a friend whose birthday is about a week after mine. I've had to ask for joint parties (usually planned by his then-girlfriend-now-wife) - to be added to the VIP list, so to speak. And almost every time, my heart has ripped a little knowing that these moments were never really meant for me, that most of these people had forgotten all about me until they received the joint party announcements.
Last year, I received 5 or 6 texts. Two or three word blurbles wishing me a "happy bday." I appreciated them, but something about having to pay to view these messages when people could have easily called, uneases me. A digital note on a cold phone screen verses the warmth of a real voice.
This year, I am preparing myself. I have repeatedly told myself not to expect much. If you don't expect anything, you won't be disappointed, Annie. It's sad and wrong of me, I know.
I dunno. Maybe I complain too much.
I probably do.
Birthdays are special. They should be spent with those you love and care for, those souls who love and care for you. They should be spent with the people in your life.
For the past couple of years, I've ridden on the coattails of a friend whose birthday is about a week after mine. I've had to ask for joint parties (usually planned by his then-girlfriend-now-wife) - to be added to the VIP list, so to speak. And almost every time, my heart has ripped a little knowing that these moments were never really meant for me, that most of these people had forgotten all about me until they received the joint party announcements.
Last year, I received 5 or 6 texts. Two or three word blurbles wishing me a "happy bday." I appreciated them, but something about having to pay to view these messages when people could have easily called, uneases me. A digital note on a cold phone screen verses the warmth of a real voice.
This year, I am preparing myself. I have repeatedly told myself not to expect much. If you don't expect anything, you won't be disappointed, Annie. It's sad and wrong of me, I know.
I dunno. Maybe I complain too much.
I probably do.
2 comments:
I used to have so many bad birthdays...being in December, I would constantly get the insulting comments about not expecting my birthday to be celebrated considering Christmas is right around the corner. Like...how rude of me..
I really hope this one is better for you, that somehow, miraculously, something comes through.
{I plan my party every year now} ;)
I planned my own party 2 (or was it 3?) years ago. A night of salsa dancing.
It snowed like it does EVERY year around my birthday.
No one was interested in entertaining my inane requests save for 4 friends. 2 couple, to be exact. So there we were, my coupled friends dancing with each other and my dancing with a short, nervous stranger who had no rhythm and who kept stepping on my toes.
It was lovely. ;p
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