My birthday is coming up.
I used to lovelovelove my birthday. All the attention on me (typical youngest child behavior) and presents and CAKE and all the good vibes that came with it.
Then somewhere down the line, I started to dislike my birthday more and more. I think it started in high school when I saw people decorate their friends lockers on their birthdays and I think except some small decorations on mine freshman year, no one ever did that for me (and I could be making the freshman year ones up too, it’s a little fuzzy to me after ten years). People would be nice to me in school on my birthday but no one ever offered to do anything with me? The birthday that was a definitive turning point was my 17th. I asked several people to go see The Darjeeling Limited with me as it would be my first R rated movie “alone”. Everyone bailed. I was on my way to the movie theater when the last person suddenly couldn’t make it. I lied to my mom that she was already inside. I couldn’t bear to tell her I’d be in there alone. She probably would have come with me, but it felt too pathetic. I enjoyed the movie (although it’s technically in the bottom ranking of Wes Anderson films for me. I can’t tell if it’s because of the movie itself or the memories associate with it, but I’ve only seen it one other time since that day.)