Not Nineteen Forever: I like my unbirthdays more

Posted on February 11, 2013

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That’s a song by The Courteeners. I’ve been planning to make this my 19th birthday song for so long. I prefer playing it when I’m celebrating my birthday happily, as birthdays should be celebrated. As much as I appreciate it, I don’t think I was contented with my birthday this year. I wasn’t that happy. I’m actually more than glad that it’s already February 12 in this country.

Okay, before we start with the “oh dear God she’s being depressed and suicidal again, someone please get her a therapist” reactions from you guys, let me just say that I was generally happy on my birthday. I really was. I treated my roommates with a 6-piece chicken bucket meal in Jollibee Tandang Sora. There were more than five people who greeted me via Facebook, Twitter, and/or phone. Some of my friends actually remembered my birthday without the help of good ol’ Facebook. My parents didn’t forget about me today. There were people who actually acknowledged the fact that 19 years ago, I started existing.

But not everyone bothers telling me that, eh? Sure, I understand that maybe some of my friends and acquaintances were not able to go online today. Maybe they were too busy to greet me (I admit, I do that too sometimes with my Facebook friends). Maybe they were too busy with their active social lives, too busy with thousands of notifications, too busy to check who is celebrating his/her birthday today. Maybe they were hesitant because we weren’t that close yet. Maybe it’s because I deferred from their org (LOL). Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe Facebook put out my birthday on the newsfeed a day late (I’m not sure that even happens). Maybe they forgot.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. All these maybes and no one conclusion. As a journalism major, I have been told from time to time that it is a disgrace to jump to conclusions. But sometimes it’s just easier to just admit that they simply do not care. It’s my way of saving myself from the hurt of convincing myself with lies. The assumption that they don’t care is a highly probable one, I mean come on. I should be getting more proof but it’s kind of like that. They were online. They have been my friends for years. They might have at least cared.

Call me a girl with issues but I want people to care about me. I’m admitting this to myself because like what I said earlier, I’m saving myself from being hurt. Deep, deep down, all I want is to be appreciated. That’s what I crave for the most in life. It is, after all, a fundamental human desire to be loved, right? I pretend to be numb but it kills me. And with that, I now realize that emo bands could pay me to write their lyrics. I could see that last line in a emo-punk song, seriously. Something with a title like, “You didn’t greet me on my birthday. I feel daggers in my heart”.

So this popular girl from my high school has her birthday a day after mine. That’s today. I expect greetings to pour in, I mean come on. She already had greetings yesterday. She had more birthday greetings than me on my birthday, and she’s not even doing anything. I, on the other hand, am (pathetically) suggesting to people that February 11 is the day they can put the words “happy”, “birthday”, and “Andrea” together. Sounds bitter? Well yeah. I am. I can’t help but feel sorry for my pathetic birthday celebration which consists of lying in bed all day and eating at a popular fast food chain whose mascot is a big, fat, stupid bee. I can’t help but feel envy towards Georgia from Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, just watch the damn movie.

Okay. I’m not popular. I don’t have friends from different circles or even a large group of friends. My social life leaves much to be desired. I don’t have a boyfriend, or a boy who might actually want to be more than friends. Or even a boy who wants to be friends. But hey, I’m alive. I reached nineteen. That’s a good enough reason to feel good about February 11. I’m a step closer to adulthood. I’ve had nineteen years of surviving, trying to make it out alive every single day. Achievement unlocked!

Note to self: I promise you, next year will be different. I’ve got a great feeling about it. Maybe you’ll get everything you imagined a happy birthday to be. Maybe you’ll get a lot of gifts. Maybe you’ll have a song dedicated to you. Maybe you’ll celebrate it in a gig. Maybe you’ll get flowers and a cake. Maybe you’ll finally have a great birthday picture to be posted on various social networks. Or maybe all this would not happen, and you will still be contented. Either way, I hope you’ll feel great turning two decades old next year. I hope you won’t be bitter this time.

“Do you still feel younger than you thought you would by now? Or darling, have you started feeling old yet?”

Arctic Monkeys

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