by Jake McMillan
I hate birthdays. Not other people’s, just mine.
My birthday is dead to me and mine has been officially struck from the calendar. I’m not 100% sure why I hate my birthday so much, but I do know I hate it. I have no wish to celebrate it and dread anyone who remembers it and wants to wish me ‘Happy Birthday’.
I’ve been hiding my birthday from others for many years now and outside of family there are only 7 or 8 people who remember but thankfully even they are now a bit confused on the actual date. On the ‘big day’ I get rather insular and have no wish to see or speak to anyone at all.
All this makes me a huge hypocrite as I will always remember other’s birthdays and want to wish them happy birthday and go out and celebrate it with them. However, these people do seem to genuinely enjoy their birthday and the good wishes they receive from people.
Hating your birthday is probably not a good sign psychologically-speaking but I am fine with my life, my age (well, not the number, it’s one of those beginning with a 3) and generally have a positive outlook on life. So why do I hate my birthday so much? It’s true I don’t like the attention or a reminder that I am getting older, but this is not nearly enough to explain my hatred of it.
The reason is unimportant to me but others seem to find it perplexing and my unwillingness to say when my birthday is has on occasion drawn unwelcome attention to it. Nevertheless, I am sticking to my guns and will continue to not celebrate my birthday. If others want to celebrate it, then that is fine, just leave me out of it.
Just in case you were wondering and trying to be clever, there is no relevance to the date of this posting, I wrote this ages ago.