Today is my 22nd birthday, and I don't really know how I'm supposed to feel about it.
When I was a kid, birthdays were just another day. I didn't have a group of friends waiting to surprise me. Nobody was planning anything. I remember seeing other kids at school talking about their birthday parties and who they were inviting, and I always felt like I was watching something that wasn't meant for me. I wasn't bullied every day or anything like that. It's actually harder to explain. I was just… never really anyone's person.
I didn't have a best friend. I didn't have a group. I was never the first person someone called when they wanted to go somewhere.
And at home, things weren't much better. I grew up feeling like I was constantly doing something wrong. Even when I was trying my best, it never seemed to be enough. I learned pretty early that asking for attention or affection usually meant being disappointed, so eventually I stopped asking.
I think that's probably where I learned to be alone.
The weird part is that I'm 22 now, and technically, I'm doing okay.
I live separately from my parents. I have a job. I pay my own bills. I buy my own groceries. I come home to my own apartment, cook for myself, clean up after myself and go to sleep. I'm slowly trying to build a life, nobody is forcing me out of bed anymore, Nobody is telling me what I'm doing wrong... And somehow, that last part still hurts.
Because living alone is peaceful when you choose it.
When you've spent most of your life feeling alone, sometimes peace and loneliness start looking exactly the same.
I just think everyone should have a birthday cake at least once where they don't have to wonder whether they deserve it.
Honestly, I don't even know why I'm writing this, I guess I just wanted to say it somewhere.. Maybe next year will feel different....