Next week I am going to be having my 21st birthday, which means that I am graduating in two years..
Which means that I have to apply to internship’s this semester..
Which means applications towards master schools need to be organized for senior year..
However, these are engravings in my life that need to be done no matter what. Yet an engraving with no meaning is like a life with no breath. People say a birthday should be a happy period, which growing up is the essence of life.
But for me a birthday is a forgotten date...
Every year, plastering on a face of happiness is a necessity. I am like a picture on a wall; all my family sees that it’s there and recognizes that it’s me, but no one will acknowledge it.
So called loving aunts ‘forget’ and a supposed caring father figure blatantly ignores it. Saying I’m a grown adult, no need for presents or for him to call me. To this man ones supposed to call father, my shadow is all he sees. Never looking directly at me, playing with my strings knowing I will do anything for him to call me daughter.
This year the man threatened that since I forgot Father’s day he would forget my birthday because he saw this as another punishment.
The only light around this man is a deep red puppet master with the taste of zinc still in the mistress’s gold coated mouth. It only knows greed, how to twist and tangle ones image to portray her as the innocent lamb and those who stand in her way as devils. Feeding the puss filled lies to the ignorant father to sway favor over blood to patch away all the insecurities gushing out of the vile scales.
No more is there any room for anyone within these greedy lives.
Truth; the reason why birthdays leave an unfulfilled pit in my stomach results from anxiety, fearful that no one will care. That, like a broken CD, will keep replaying the horror of everyone forgetting. Even when the truth is spoken the crowd doesn’t even move a centimeter to reconcile such wrong doings.
Shiny objects of numbers with no limit don’t satisfy me, only simple words and actions have been able to move me to tears. Our generation has turned into lazy slugs, a generation of entitled babies who don’t know the meaning of satisfaction threw grease elbows or gaining the fruits of ones labor.
Once, a supposed peer, filled the hormone infested school with babbles of how they would disown such ungrateful parental figures for not trading a shiny new car right off the block. Such words of discuss resulted in the parents picking the wrong color. Instead of punishing such a selfish act they added fuel to the fire by doing what the kid wanted.
I don’t wish to be so conceded, to be a blind greed that has infested mother earth. The only selfish act ever committed was to have one person to want me. To not forget a birthday, to talk to even when complaining, to be their anchor and for them to be mine. I thought that’s what a father was for but destiny had other plans. To create a dead end between the man who raised me and myself, every time I try to become the perfect daughter the evil witch snatches his thoughts away and replaces them with hate. Not for just me, but for my sisters and his family to.
So as the day of a Birth approaches I crawl deeper into my pitch black hole of solitude. Reminded why I am starting to cower in any human’s presence.
Fear of rejection, fear of true isolation, fear of being forgotten….
A Birthday is a reminder of my existence, one that I’ve tried to wipe away from the world. Yet, like a stain, it won’t end no matter how much toxins one dumps on it.